


A Storm Is Blowing in from Paradise

by sockablock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Auras ‘n Stuff, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Molly is [REDACTED], Slow Burn, Team as Family, Wild magical USA, Yasha is an angel, emotional power hours, everyone’s human and there’s no powers, i get wild with theology so please bear with me, it starts slow and gets wild around ch. 7-8, yet ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockablock/pseuds/sockablock
Summary: On one warm summer night, an angel plummets right out of heaven and into a lake at a national park.Now it's up to Beau and her friends to get this wayward celestial home, a hard task made harder by a few major problems: Yasha can't seem to remember where she is, how she got there, or how to return. Of course, things are never easy, especially not for the Mighty Nein. And especially not when Beau starts to wonder if Yasha reallydoeshave to go. Very soon, all of them, angel included, will start to realize just exactly what they've gotten themselves into...





	1. The Light in Hermon's Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this fic, and thanks for giving it a shot! 
> 
> Here's Chapter One, featuring: a fateful earring, adventures by the lake, the inception sound effect, touched by an angel.
> 
>  
> 
> (title from _Theses on the Philosophy of History_ , by Walter Benjamin, a simultaneously terrible and absolutely amazing assigned reading I had in class this year)

On a warm summer night, just as the first stars appeared in the sky, two figures moved loudly through pine-scented woods.

One was tall, clumsy, trod on branches and stray pebbles, struggled to keep up with his more agile friend. The soles of his sneakers left indents on the muddy path, and flies nipped viciously at the back of his neck. When he tried to swat them away with his hands, the beam of his flashlight scattered out into the trees.

“Gods, can you _chill_?” his friend hissed impatiently, turning around with a disapproving scowl. “I can’t see for shit without the light, Caleb. I’m _trying_ to follow to the trail.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He angled his flashlight back to the forest floor. “I still do not see the point of this, though. Our hopes of success vanished when the sun went down.”

His friend, a young woman in her early twenties, crossed her arms. “Maybe that’s what _you_ think,” she said, “but I told Jester we’d give it a shot. I don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

Caleb sighed, and shook his head. “ _Nein_ , but…even so. This trip will be futile, Beauregard. That earring is as good as gone.”

Beau’s sweater ruffled in the breeze. “Jes’s _mom_ gave her that set,” she reminded him. “We should at least search the lake. And if we can’t find it along the shore, or something, we’ll go back and try again in the morning. Maybe Fjord can even dive in and look.”

“I would prefer that to running through the woods,” Caleb mumbled, swatting at yet more bugs. “I am being eaten _alive_ , tonight.”

Beau rolled her eyes, which was lost in the darkness.

“Come on, then,” she said, gesturing further down the trail. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we go home. You think I _like_ being out here with you?”

“ _Was_? Beauregard, I thought we were friends.”

His flashlight shone out over the path.

“That’s the only reason I haven’t already left you behind. Now, hurry up!” She gave him a smirk. “Come on, I’m not waitin’ any longer.”

Their footsteps echoed between the trees as they took off for the water with as little caution as they cared. Hermon’s Park was well-known for being safe; nothing larger than a gopher roamed these woods. The most dangerous animals lurking around were just drunk college kids—Beau knew this, firsthand.

Eventually, to the tune of Caleb’s heavy panting, the two of them made it to the tall bushes that marked the edges of the lake’s shore. It was a wide reservoir in the middle of the forest, large enough that the trees on the other end were barely visible. Earlier that day, they’d spent hours here, picnicking lazily on the docks above the waves.

Now it was dark, and the lulling tides washed up against grass and mud in the moonlight. Sometimes a firefly would hum out over the reeds. A few boats, tied to a wooden post, slowly bobbed up and down on the water.

“Okay,” said Beau, jabbing her thumb past the bushes, “let’s split up, you can take the—”

Caleb sized her by the shoulder and threw her down behind the shrubs, forcing the both of them into the dirt. His flashlight cut out as his other hand slammed it shut, and before Beau could even say a word—before she could argue, yell, or smack him in the head—his eyes locked onto hers, frozen and wide.

This was enough to give her pause. His next words, frantic, were enough to make her stop.

“There was something out there,” Caleb hissed, his voice a panicked whisper. “Did you see it? In the sky, it was _enormous_!”

“What?” Beau frowned. “What—what do you mean? Like…a _bird_?”

He shook his head quickly. “ _Nein_ , no, not a bird, it…it blocked out the stars, did you see? It blocked…it blocked out _all_ the stars. It was moving, I _saw_ it, it was there for just a moment.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. She shrugged his arm off.

“I don’t see anything,” she murmured, glancing up. “Anyways, there’s some light pollution here. How sure are you about that?”

“I am _certain_ ,” Caleb hissed. “I…I am _sure._ It gave me a very sour feeling, Beauregard, like…like something bad was going to happen. Like something very dangerous was coming.”

Beau scanned the heavens. Not a threat was in sight.

“I really don’t see anything wrong,” she began slowly, “and even if it was, why hide behind a _bush_ —”

And then came a sound like the ripping of the sky. Like an explosion of rage rocking the Earth off its feet, a sudden, sourceless anger pounding its fists into the night, bursting with the thunder of a thousand churning storms. Then, immediately after, the forest exploded too, as every bird in the trees began to scream, as every insect shrieked and every creature wailed, as nature itself seemingly took up the call.

For a horrible, terrible, dissonant moment, the world was a mind-shattering storm of discord.

And then, as suddenly as it started—it stopped.

The woods went still. The air went quiet.

And then, a brilliant white light bloomed in the sky. A single point of radiance in a suddenly-darkened night. It was tiny, at first, and impossibly distant, but then it drew closer, and then closer, and even closer, and then it was a glimmer, a comet, a trail, a massive searing arc that sliced through the twilight and Caleb and Beau only had a second to see—to rise with incredulity and stare without sight as a star—a _star_ —collided with the lake. The impact burst upwards in a tsunami of force that seemed to hover in the air for but a moment before collapsing back down in a sudden wave of gentle rain.

There was a moment, as the universe held its breath.

Then a figure emerged from the lake. Its head rose slowly, broke the surface without slowing, then it kept going, kept lifting, kept rising, up and up and up until its entire form was floating in the air, hovering just barely an inch above the water.

Later on, Beau would think back on this, and remember:

Framed in the moonlight of this soft summer night, this moment was nothing less than ethereal.

And then, the figure landed. Its feet brushed the waves.

Its head turned slowly. Its face, though shrouded by distance and shadows, found the wide and staring eyes of Beau.

She had risen up from behind the bushes, was now kneeling on the ground, head barely within sight, not wanting—maybe not able—to move.

It was very likely that her heart had stopped beating. At her side, also watching, also in shock, was Caleb, who could’ve put marble statues to shame.

For a moment, utterly frozen and electric, Beau and this figure just stared at each other.

And then she blinked.

When her eyes opened, the figure was standing just inches from her face.

She couldn’t even come close to knowing what was going on—on some level, her senses were screaming, her eyes straining, her soul still burning from the light. She saw a massive woman, a mane of hair, _what’s on her back_ —but the pounding in her ears and the drumming of her heart and the adrenaline roaring through her veins could only focus on a singular thought:

 _This woman just fell from the sky. This woman just fell from the_ sky _. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the_ f—

“Be not afraid,” said a voice like a living breeze. Soft, but every word a force of nature. “I will not hurt you. I mean you no harm.”

Her eyes were two different colors. One pale purple, another piercing blue, framed by a curtain of snowy-white hair.

Beau stared into her face. There was nowhere else she could look.

But then there was a noise, coming from her side. A sort of whine, high-pitched and incomprehensible.

Beau’s brain latched onto this new distraction. She turned and saw Caleb, his expression aghast, his finger raised, pointing and shaking with awe.

Like an ant through molasses, Beau followed his gaze, back to the figure, and then to the figure’s back, and then to the massive shawl across her shoulders, trailing down almost to the ground and shifting, moving, with a life of their own—

“She…she…the feathers…” Caleb managed.

“Ah,” said the angel, her expression turning sheepish. “Right, those are…um. Shoot.”

\--------------------------------

In the seconds that followed this earthshattering revelation, punctuated only by the distant lapping of waves, Beauregard finally regained control of her senses. Her eyes were still fixed completely on the— _god, that’s a fucking angel, isn’t it—_ but she did find some shred of motor functions still left. She used that to jab Caleb with her elbow, then gave him a meaningful stare and gestured at the enormous woman standing before them, looking more and more uncomfortable as each second passed.

Though, to be honest, Caleb was probably doing worse. He looked torn between fleeing and trying to trigger a spontaneous combustion. Eventually, it he decided neither were totally viable options, and settled instead for some intensely awkward eye contact.

”Er...ahm...”

He adjusted his glasses.

“Ah _…hallo_? _Ja,_ er… _ja_ , that.”

The figure shifted imperceptibly. Beau could have sworn that it had just given a nod. It seemed to be searching internally for something, then it nodded again, opened its mouth, and produced a string of what was—to Beau—complete gibberish:

“ _Hallo?_ _Ist dies die Sprache, die Sie bevorzugen? Wo bin ich?_ ”

Luckily, Caleb was fluent in nonsense. His eyes flitted to Beau, who motioned, _go on_?

“The, ah, the…the alien wants to know where this is,” he translated, fumbling with his words and also his sanity. “Do you, ah…English might be preferred,” he added lamely, dragging his gaze back towards the giant woman.

She gave short exhale in response that Beau realized, with incredulity, was a sigh. Then she shifted slightly, one final time, and the leaves beneath her legs rustled.

“That is…acceptable as well,” she said. “But I really must know the answer. Where am I? What is this place?”

Beau and Caleb exchanged glances. There was a brief mental struggle, from which Beau emerged victorious. She raised her eyebrow and nudged her head towards the woman.

“You, ah, you are on…Earth?” Caleb tried, adjusting his glasses again. “You… _are_ an angel, yes?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “and you are a human. I know, already, that we are on Earth. But I need to know exactly _where_. And…what time is this, also? You look different from the humans I remember. Your speech is not…not what I recall…?”

The angel trailed off awkwardly, now looking mildly distressed. This was enough to stun Beau into a state of amused irony, which was good because Caleb looked like he was about to drop dead from the sheer absurdity of their situation. A few more seconds of this, Beau realized, and it was possible that the poor man might just—

She just managed to catch him just before he fainted in the mud. His flashlight clattered onto the ground.

Yasha took a sharp step back. If angels could look panicked, she certainly did.

“I—shoot, I am so sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I did not mean to, I just...I..." Her eyes widened. They affixed onto Beau's. "I believe...I think I need to leave. I am causing you both undue stress. I should not be interfering in your lives, and it would be better if you forgot you ever saw this.” 

Very slowly, she raised a finger. Was it Beau’s imagination, or did it shine in the moonlight?

“I have already stayed here too long, it is better to erase this and I can ensure that you will—”

“Wait!”

Yasha froze. 

Later on, Beau would wonder why she did. 

But right now in this moment, amid this burning second, as she struggled to lift Caleb, his feet dragging through the mud, there was only one thing on her mind.

“W…wait,” she repeated. “Just...hang on. You’re in Hermon’s Park.  Western Massachusetts? It's, like, three hours outside Boston. And I, uh…I’m not sure what you’re doing here, or why, or what this means, and I’m kind of having a crisis of faith right now too, but…but…maybe I can help.” She jostled the unconscious man in her arms. “He could probably help you too, I mean…I guess he can when he wakes up. He’s super smart, he knows a shit-ton about everything. If…if you give me a hand getting him back to the cabin, I can, um, we have some maps, at least. Just…please. Don’t erase this. Let me help.”

She balanced Caleb against her shoulder.

Very, very carefully, she extended a hand. Her fingers trembled under the moon.

There was a moment, as the universe held its breath.

Yasha's fingers brushed against Beau's.

"...okay."

Beau found a pair of soft, mismatched eyes. They could’ve been human. For all the emotion raging behind them—anxiety, nervousness, trepidation—they were.

"Bringing him back is also the least I can do."

The angel's hand was warm, which was nice.

They broke away after what felt like eternity in a second. Beau re-adjusted her grip on Caleb.

“So, uh…got a name?” she asked. “Should I know you from, like, Bible study, or something? I gotta warn you, I didn’t pay much attention.”

The angel made a faint sound in her throat. Later on, much _, much_ later on, Beau would realize that it had been a laugh.

“I am not famous,” the angel said. “But, you may call me ‘Yasha’.”

“Yasha, huh?” Beau tried the syllables on her tongue. It wasn’t as clumsy as she’d expected. “Yasha. What’re you doin’ here on Earth, Yasha?”

To her not-surprise, Yasha shook her head. But then the angel gave an odd sigh.

“That is…a very good question,” she said. She shuffled awkwardly where she stood. “If, ah…if I am being honest, I actually am not sure how I got here.”

Beau blinked. Her arms slackened, and she almost dropped Caleb.

“You…wait, you what?” she asked.

“I do not know,” the angel repeated. “I am not sure how I arrived on your world.”

Beau blinked again. This was not an answer she knew how to deal with.

“But…wait, _what_?” she managed. “If…if you don’t even know, then what the hell—sorry, heck—if you don't even have a, a mission or whatever, what are you even _doing_ here?”

Yasha shrugged. Her feet sank into the mud.

“That is...also a good question,” she said eventually. “Truthfully, I do not know the answer. All I know…all I can _remember,_ is that I should not be here right now. I need to be…somewhere else. Somewhere that I must hurry and find.”

“Find?” Beau echoed. “Why? What’s there?”

Yasha’s eyes shone with distant stars.

“Home,” she said simply. “That place will lead me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! For my long-time readers, sorry 'bout the long break between uploads! I just finished wrapping up Year 2 of college, and it's been an absolutely wild time. I also apologize for the amount of outstanding WIPs I've managed to accumulate, i have the mind of a sparrow and I collect story ideas and unfinished works like they're shiny objects, or something ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Nevertheless, thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this tale! I already have Chapters 2 and 3 written, and I'm gonna try to stay ahead of updates so long as work permits! If all goes well, you can expect new chapters to be posted every week-or-so, and now that school is over I'll (fingers crossed!) be working on some of them good good old stories too. In the meantime, you can always find me as [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, where I have a plethora of drabbles, requests, and where my inbox is always open!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and see you next time!  
> (Strap in. It's gonna be a long one.) 
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) <3


	2. Heaven Is a Name for It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, Featuring: the walk home, an attempt at theology, a moment in the office, return of the friends
> 
> Throughout this fic, I will be taking some liberties with religion (think good omens shoved through the existing lore of exandria!). I will not be making any criticisms/critiques, as I absolutely do not want to offend anyone's beliefs, but if this isn't your jam, you have been warned!

They set off shortly after that, their silence hanging in the air like a fog. Sometimes a cricket would hop past their feet, and a few stray fireflies hovered by their knees.

Beauregard’s mind was a mess. Ten minutes ago, a star had fallen from the sky. Nine minutes ago, an enormous, seven-foot woman with hair like a cloud and wings on her back had walked out from the middle of Hermon’s Lake. Eight minutes ago, Caleb had—understandably—passed out, and Beau had struck a deal with a literal angel to bring him back to their cabin in exchange for…for…for what, _maps_? For a _GPS_? There wasn’t even any internet out here, and besides, shouldn’t an angel have, like, _magic_ or something? Did beings of heavenly power _need_ compasses?

And her brand-new excruciating theological dilemma aside, Beau was also worried about the practicality of this arrangement. What was she going to _say_ to everyone? _Hey, Fjord, Jes, Nott, what’s up? Caleb fainted while we were out, but don’t worry! I’ve got this giant fucking lady here who helped me carry him back._

There was also another piece of Beau, very, _very_ small, but significant nonetheless, that was poking and prodding at the back of her mind. It was saying _: how come_ Caleb _gets a ride, and not me?_

She did her best to shove those thoughts aside. There was a time and place, goddammit.

Finally, after a few more minutes of silence, her patience finally cracked. She turned to the angel walking at her side and gave a smile with as much politeness as she could muster.

“So, uh… _home_ , huh?” she asked, extremely awkwardly. “Is that…would that be _heaven_?”

Yasha made a soft, thoughtful sound. “Heaven…is a name for it.”

Beau nodded, mostly because there was nothing else she could do. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, uh…cool. That’s cool. So, uh, is that where you just fell from? And like, why can’t you just…you know, since you _fell,_ and all that, if you want to go home, how come you can’t just… _fly_ back? Your wings work, don’t they?”

“Yes,” the angel agreed. “However, I have already tried. It did not work."

"You  _tried_ already?  _When_?"

Yasha gave a faint huff of frustration. "While I was falling. The whole time, I was attempting not to."

When she did not elaborate any further, Beau scratched her nose.

“Well, if that's the case, are you, uh, are you alright? I mean, landin' all the way down here, are you, uh, _hurt_ , or anything?”

“Not physically,” Yasha hummed. “Though the impact with your lake did sting a bit.”

“You probably scared some fish shitless,” Beau heard herself say. “How come you aren’t drenched in water?”

Yasha turned towards her. One of her eyes glowed faintly with the moonlight.

“Is that _really_ what is bothering you?”

Beauregard coughed. Her flashlight wavered.

“That, uh…no,” she admitted. “No, mostly I’m just wondering what the _fuck_ , you know? What the _fuck_ is going on? What _are_ you? Are there more of you? Is God real? You know, stuff like that.” She raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I _do_ need to ask about that, by the way. Yes, or no? And who was right, about what happens after? Should I call my parents and tell them that their pastor’s right? Or better yet—what are the chances that they’re going to hell?”

Yasha was quiet for a few seconds. Beau more-or-less patiently awaited the answer.

“This is why we are not supposed to interfere with mortals,” the angel said eventually.

“Sorry,” Beau shrugged. “This mortal’s got some questions, though.”

“That was…many,” Yasha murmured. “I do not think I got all of that.”

“Who’s right?” Beau simplified. “Christianity? Judaism? Islam? None of the above?” She tapped her chin. “Do I need to go pagan? ‘Cause I’ll fuckin’ do it, if that’s what it takes.”

She studied Yasha’s expression carefully. The other woman seemed troubled by this question, and Beau’s grip on sanity got just a bit looser.

Then the angel just gave a shrug. She continued walking down the path.

“I do not know what those are,” she said. “Sorry.”

Beau blinked. She stared. Then she remembered what they were doing, and scrambled to catch up. “Er…er…okay, answer a different question then,” she called. “Why’d you fall out of the sky?! And what did you mean when you said you don’t know how you got here?”

Yasha waited for Beau to catch up. She took a step back to avoid being bumped into.

“Again,” she sighed, as Beau came to a halt. “Really, I just do not know. I cannot even remember the events leading up to this.”

“What did you have for breakfast?” Beau tried.

There was a pause. An insect whistled, then vanished with the darkness.

“Ah,” said Yasha, after a few seconds. “That was humor. Yes?”

“Yeah,” sighed Beau. “I guess I should keep working on it. But really, though, a part of me just can’t believe there’s stuff that you don’t know. That this…that whatever happened to you is an _accident._ I thought angels were supposed to be all-powerful, or something.”

“Or something,” Yasha mumbled.

In her silence, Beau tried a different approach.

“Okay, so what _can_ you remember? Obviously you’ve got your name, and who you are, and whatever, you seem pretty sure that you’re, uh, that you’re an angel. Unless this is a needlessly elaborate prank…” She squinted. “Did Jester put you up to this?”

“What is a Jester?”

“Nevermind, nevermind, just…try to remember something. One thing. Anything at all.”

Yasha’s footsteps began to slow. She shut her eyes and furrowed her brow.

Beau was so surprised by this shockingly human expression that she was wholly unprepared for what Yasha said next:

“I remember the birth of your universe. I remember the storm that gave it life. I remember the glow of creation when it was a speck in the dust, then the dawn of the stars and the colliding of planets. I remember the first time heat found your atmosphere, then the first gleam of sentience that appeared, much later. I remember when the fabric of reality made the shield that separated our worlds, but also the thread that connected them, too. I remember the first time I saw a soul. That was good day, until I realized what it was.”

Their shoes crunched against the wet gravel. Caleb was snoring now, the sound of the lake shore far, far behind.

“Oh,” Beau managed, eventually. “Oh, uh…oh. Cool.”

“No,” Yasha hummed. “It was warm.”

Beau counted to ten. She did it again.

“You, uh…okay…but what’s the last thing you remember from _today_?”

“Today?” Yasha tilted her head to one side. “Today? Er…I think…yes, I remember the world bending around me as I descended. That is normal, that always happens. But…I was falling. I could not stop. And then I hit the water, and you were there. Also this one,” she shook Caleb gently. “He is not very sturdy, is he?”

“You’re, uh, yeah. For sure. But was there anything else?” she pressed. “Anything at all?”

Yasha considered this. After a moment, she shrugged again. “There was just a feeling,” she said softly. “It is like gentle burning, deep in my chest. I know I must get home. I _need_ to get home. And I know that to do so, I must go to Iothia.”

“Hey, hey, that’s great, though!” Beau clapped her hands together. “Iothia, right? You’ve got a name! That means it’s something you can find. Any idea where it is?”

Yasha shook her head, and Beau’s enthusiasm fell.

“None,” she sighed. “I just know to go there. It must be in your world, have you heard of it?”

Beau scratched the back of her head. “Uh…my geography’s a bit rusty,” she admitted. “Caleb’s the one who usually knows this sorta thing. It might be in Europe, or something.”

“Europe?”

“Just wait ‘till we get back to the cabin,” Beau sighed. “We’ve got some maps, I can— _shit_ , right.”

“Shit?” Yasha looked alarmed. “What? Why that? What is the matter?”

“No, no, nothing bad.” She swung her flashlight around in the darkness. “I just remembered my friends, is all. There’s gonna be three others in the house. I’m sure they’ll be cool about, uh, about all this, but…damn, man, this is a lot to take in.”

“That is alright,” Yasha gave a nod, “I can always make them fall unconscious. Then we will check these ‘maps’ that you speak of, and I will be on my way.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “As, uh, as great as that sounds, I kinda don’t want to deal with _four_ passed-out people. Maybe we can just…explain it to them. Calmly. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. But we’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

“There is a bridge coming?”

She held back an enormous sigh. This night had gone on for much longer than anticipated.

“Nevermind,” she huffed loudly. “Never…nevermind. Let’s just…just…alright, come on. We should be there in about two minutes.”

\--------------------------------

Right when the spring semester was about to end, fresh-faced nursing student and professional rascal Jester Lavore had wasted no time in wrangling all her closest friends onto a trip. First, she’d recruited Beauregard Lionett, foul-mouthed roommate and self-proclaimed badass. Then she’d pulled in Veth Brenatto—better known to them as “Nott the Brave”—a surprisingly devious lab assistant whom Jester had first encountered during a prank gone wrong. Nott, in turn, had secured the attendance of her housemate, Caleb Widogast, a graduate student that had become their friend by helping Jester pass Intro to Calc. Beauregard herself had also recruited her gym buddy, and Jester’s longtime acquaintance, a young man named Fjord whose car was the only reason that the five of them ever got anywhere.

This motley crew had arrived at Hermon’s Park just as summer vacation kicked off, moving into the cabin already owned by Jester’s mom. It was well past midnight on their third—now fourth—day, when Beau and Yasha returned to the front door.

The windows were dark and silent as they arrived.

“Now, just so you know,” Beau murmured, “Jester’s the one with freckles and the funky accent. She’ll probably get _real_ excited when she meets you, but if you can weather that out, she’s the best. Nott’s shorter than her, with long, dark hair, and she’s going to be suspicious until she warms up to you. Fjord’s the dude, he’s gonna be confused, but he’ll probably just give up and go with the flow after a bit. Ready?”

For an otherworldly being of probably infinite power, Yasha seemed rather daunted by the prospect of social interaction.

“Is there anything I should say to them?” she whispered. “Do humans have a special greeting, or anything?”

Beau climbed up the porch stairs. She considered this.

“Nah. Not really. Just be yourself.”

Yasha watched her fish around for the key.

“Be myself?” she echoed. “But I am already myself, I cannot just be someone e—”

Beau threw the front door open.

“We’re back!” she hollered, and kicked her shoes off. “Guys, we’re back, I brought a guest!”

Silence.

Beau felt along the walls for the switch.

When she found it, the lights in the cabin flared to life and the living room came into full view. Beauregard scanned across maroon couches, an oak coffee table, the empty kitchenette off to the side and the fireplace dormant in the summer’s heat. Heavy olive curtains hung over the windows, and the cushions on the floor were empty, carpet bare.

“Huh,” she said, giving a faint frown. “Maybe they’re asleep already?”

Yasha glanced to the left, then to the right. She adjusted her grip on the unconscious Caleb.

“There are no other humans in this home,” she said. “That is certain. I would know.”

Beau let this sink in. She considered Yasha again, and very unsubtly glanced at the woman’s back. The wings were folded up now, casually tucked out of the way. At first glance, they looked like some kind of feathered shawl.

She scratched the side of her head and sighed. “In that case, we can worry about them later. Jes probably got tired of waiting for us and made everyone else head outside. Just, uh…just stick Caleb on the couch, alright?” She pointed to the nearest one. “I’ll go and find some lemonade, or something.”

Yasha headed across the carpet. Now that they were standing in the light, Beau could get a proper look at her new companion. Yasha really _was_ an enormous woman, standing a good foot and a half taller than a normal person would. Her clothing was very simple; she was dressed in some kind of draping grey cloth that looked like a toga right off an old statue, ending around her ankles and leaving her arms bare. There was also a belt tied around her waist, dark and woven into some kind of knotted pattern. As Yasha bent over to dump Caleb onto the couch, Beau had to resist moving in for a closer look.

First things first, she told herself.

She marched herself into the kitchen and studied the contents of their cabinets. In their frantic scramble to head into the woods, Jester had neglected to mention that they probably should’ve bought food. Luckily, though hunting was illegal in these woods, fishing season was on and the waterways were stocked. Fjord was a dab hand with a pole, and Nott had still brought arrows, which she’d been using as fishing spears.

Unfortunately, Beau couldn’t make a tea from scales. She would have to resort to other options.

“Is soda alright?” she called over her shoulder. “It might be flat, but at least the coke is unopened.”

Yasha had taken a seat on the armrest of the couch. She was pouring over Caleb’s unconscious form with an expression surprisingly emotive for an otherworldly being of indeterminate power—she was doing a marvelous job of looking both guilty and apologetic at once.

“I, ah, I am not sure what ‘coke’ is,” Yasha admitted. “Is this a ritual of some kind?”

Beau started snickering, then realized that it hadn’t been a joke.

“Right, shit, I didn’t even ask if you eat or drink. Do you, uh… _can_ you?” she tried.

Yasha seemed surprised by this. “Of course,” she said. “Can  _you_ not?Have humans evolved past that, already?”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “Have we _what_?”

Yasha pushed some of her hair aside. “What era are we in? How far has your civilization come?”

Beau really gave this some thought. Eventually, she settled on:

“Uh…2019.”

“ _What_?”

She leaned back. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Yasha quickly shook her head, but her gaze was anything but calm. “It is just…two _thousand_ _and nineteen_?” she repeated. “That just cannot be true. If so, this planet would not even have oxygen yet.”

Beau closed the cabinet. She sat down on the kitchen counter.

“When I say 2019…I mean that it’s been 2,019 years since uh…” She tried to remember any history lesson at all, then landed on the answer. “Right, yeah, since Christ. Do you know him, by the way? I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to be a big one.”

Yasha shook her head. “Maybe I was busy at the time? There are many humans. I must not have been paying attention.”

Beau leaned back a bit further and almost hit her head on a cabinet. “ _Cool_ ¸” she said, “cool, cool, that’s…great. I’m just gonna file that one away for later, _jesus_.”

“No, my name is Yasha.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Then she peeked one open.

“…you’re _sure_ you’re an angel?”

This was met with an instant nod. “That I know for certain,” Yasha added.

Beau gave a sigh. She threw her arms into the air. “Alright then, sure. Why not? It’s not like today will get any weirder.”

Then she hopped down from the counter and rubbed her face with her hands.

“Come on,” she said. “We can leave Caleb to wake up whenever, let’s just go to the study for now. I’m sure Jester’s mom has maps and stuff like that. Rich people always do, right?”

“Er…right?”

“Right!” Beau yelled. She waved at a door on their left. “Let’s see what we can find.”

\--------------------------------

“—and _this_ is a map of the world,” said Beau as she dropped the final atlas on the desk. “I’m not actually sure how helpful these’ll be, but they were all I could find in the cabinet. There’s no cell service out here, otherwise I’d try Google. Er…”

Yasha’s gaze had affixed to the maps with a laser-like focus as she loomed above them, both hands pressed flat to the desk. Even leaning, she was still nearly a head taller than Beau, an unbelievably intimidating sight.

Though strangely, intimidated was not how Beau felt.

“These are…the general shapes are familiar,” Yasha traced a finger over South Africa and trailed all the way up to the Middle-East. “I feel as if I have seen these continents before. But…the _names_ , these are not any names that I know.”

“ _Really_?” Beau tried to lean over her shoulder. She failed miserably, then walked around the desk instead. “None at all? Not a single one?”

“No,” Yasha sighed. She tapped the general area of Mongolia. “Maybe it is because it is in your language? I have never seen a human map before. Not one _this_ accurate, anyway. Though some of your continents are the wrong size.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard that once,” Beau perked up as she found familiar ground. “Caleb was goin’ on and on about that once, about how Europe is actually way smaller than you think. Did you know that it only takes four hours to get from Italy to Germany?”

Yasha turned her head to the side and considered the map from a different angle.

“Which one is the Italy? These words are very tiny.”

Beau leaned across the table and found it on the second try. “It’s shaped like a boot,” she explained. “That’s why it’s so easy to spot.”

“And which was the other one, again?” The angel pointed at a tiny island. “This?”

She snorted. “Nah, man, look, Germany’s huge, it’s one of the biggest—”

She reached out, and her hand brushed against Yasha’s arm. Suddenly, she realized how closely they’d been standing, peering over the same portion of the map, their faces practically inches apart. Beau could hear her gentle breathing, could feel her warmth carried with the scent of summer pines…

Yasha noticed her trailing off and in confusion, glanced up. In that spit second, under the soft pale glow of the cabin lights, for the first time in the last few hours, their eyes met again.

Beau had to bite her tongue to keep her expression from changing. Yasha raised an eyebrow at this, then carefully leaned back.

“Is…everything alright?” she murmured. She was staring at something an inch from Beau’s left. “Your aura is acting very odd.”

The moment faded. Beau felt her eyebrows furrow.

“My…what?”

“Aura,” Yasha repeated. “Your…you know…well, your language does not have any better words to explain it. It is, you know, a general sort of, of _thing,_ around a person. Yours was moving very quickly, though it has stopped now. It was actually quite pretty—oh, it happened again.”

Beau dropped her elbows onto the office desk. She shut her eyes and counted to ten.

“Yasha,” she began, “Yasha, have angels ever heard of the concept of personal sp—”

And then a head appeared through the doorway of the study. It was ginger, and slightly grimy, and belonged to Caleb.

He took their beat of silence to stare into the room, eyes darting across their faces as if daring them to prove to him that none of this was real.

“Ah,” he said weakly, after a moment. “I see. So this is _not_ a dream.”

Beau, grateful for the distraction, grinned. “I could punch you, if you like. Or a kick, either works.”

Caleb grimaced and stepped inside. His bare feet squeaked against the wooden floor.

“Well, that confirms it. If this were a dream, you would be nicer.”

Then he leaned against the door frame, and jabbed a thumb outside.

“Also—” he added, just as three figures barreled into view, screaming with excitement and curiosity and concern—

“—our friends found the earring. Everyone’s home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya thank ya for reading!! This fic is so so much fun to work on, especially as I've gotten more Beauyasha content to work with these last few weeks ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) As always, you can expect the next update in a week-ish (maybe a tiny bit longer, since work is kicking off), and you can always find me as [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, where I have a plethora of drabbles, requests, and where my inbox is always open!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and see ya next time <3


	3. The Angel in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this episode is brought to you by: introducing your angel (girlfriend) to your friends (family)

Beauregard had a moment, filled with— _how could you let someone into our home, who is this stranger, what have you done, you didn’t have permission, we raised you better_ —and then Jester tripped over the hem of Nott’s pants and Fjord had to stick an arm out to catch her and Caleb was elbowed into oblivion.

They scrambled to realign themselves, eventually succeeding in crowding through the doorway like only semi-deranged people. But before any of them could start screaming or shouting questions, Beau stepped forward and raised her hands.

“Look, I can explain,” she said quickly, pointing at the enormous, panicked woman standing next to her. “But it’s a long story, so we should probably sit down.”

Caleb carefully untangled himself from the knot of their confused friends. “That is a good idea,” he nodded. “I would, ah…I would wish to know what I missed.”

“Missed?” Nott turned and raised an eyebrow. “You know what’s going on?”

“Vaguely,” he gave a shrug. “I was passed out for most of—”

“You were _what_?!” Her eyes instantly snapped wide. “Did you—oh my _god_ , are you _okay_? Do you need a doctor? I can try to find some ice—"

“I’m a doctor,” Jester volunteered, now briefly distracted from the strangeness of this situation. “Well, more or less, anyway. Want me to take a look?”

“ _Nein_ , no thank you.” Caleb subtly leaned back. “No, that is quite alright.”  
  
“Are you sure?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis. “I can fix you up, right-quick.”

“Er…I still remember what happened to your last patient,” Caleb muttered, “I think I will have to pa—”

“Uhhhhh, _excuse_ me?” Fjord waved his hands. “Excuse me, but…what the _hell_ is goin’ on? Who is—Beau, who’s your friend?”

Beau scratched the back of her neck. “That’s, uh…that’s a bit complicated,” she said. “The short version is that her name is Yasha, she’s lost and I volunteered to help her.”

“And the long version?”

“The long version,” Yasha said, stepping forward before Beau could stop her, “the long version is that I am an angel. And I must get home.”

There was a long beat of silence, following that.

And then Beau pinched the bridge of her nose. She grabbed Yasha by the hand, and marched towards the door.

“Couches,” she said firmly. “ _Now_. Come on.”

\--------------------------------

“So…an angel.”

“Like…from _heaven_?”

“And you fell from the sky and crashed into the lake?” Jester leaned back. “That’s, um…are you _okay_?”

All eyes turned to her.

Yasha shrugged.

“More or less. I have had worse days.”

The gang was now seated around the coffee table, staring open-mouthed at Yasha as she finished her story. Beau had done her best to play host, but amid the frantic scramble, the sudden shock, the odd beats of silence and disbelieving frowns, she’d only had time to scrape together some Girl Scout Cookies and a bottle of warm, stale soda.

All things considered, it could have been worse.

Nott leaned across the coffee table. She displaced a mug of flat Dr. Pepper and a few loose thin mints.

“But how do we know you aren’t lying?” she asked, eyes narrowed in trademark suspicion. “How do we know you aren’t…I dunno, how do we know this isn’t some kind of crime?”

Beau, from the armrest of the couch, rolled her eyes. “ _Crime_? Really?”

“C’mon, she _kind_ of has a point.” Fjord spoke as diplomatically as he could. “I mean, no offense to you, Miss Yasha, but…what you’re claimin’ is a little hard to believe.”

“It does sound far-fetched,” Caleb jumped in. “it is hardly something that happens every day. But if it helps, I can corroborate the story. I was with Beauregard when all of this happened. Er…though I did faint shortly after our new friend fell from the sky.”

“Yeah! And that aside,” Beau glared at Nott, “seriously, who do you think I _am_? I wouldn’t lie to you guys about something as big as this. And if I was gonna play a prank on you, it’d be _way_ better than this.”

“I believe that,” Jester shrugged. “Her pranks are usually way more thought out. And also, I mean, just _look_ at her!” She waved a crumb-covered hand at Yasha. “She’s taller than anyone I’ve ever met in my _entire_ life, she’s got a huge cloud of white hair, _and_ she’s wearing a toga! If that doesn’t scream angel, I don’t know what does!”

“Actually,” Caleb said, sipping his awful soda, “angels are more accurately represented by multi-armed beings of holy fire with eyes lining their entire b—”

“Shut up,” Beau said. “Shut…shut up. That’s not helping.”

“ _Entschuldigung._ ”

“It is also not completely true,” Yasha said, much more calmly than any of them felt. “Not all of us look like that, angels come in many forms. Also, it would hardly make a good disguise on Earth.”

“Right,” Beau nodded. “Right, exactly.”

“And it is hot outside,” Yasha continued. “Why would I want to be on fire?”

Fjord raised an eyebrow. He glanced quickly between her and Beau, seemingly trying to think of what to say. Eventually he settled on:

“It’s…a joke? Ha…haha?”

“I do not understand. Why is he laughing at me?”

Beau put her mug down.

“Maybe you three need proof,” she said. She turned to Yasha with a thoughtful look. “Proof of your divine-ness, or something. Me and Caleb saw you fall from the sky, that was pretty good for us.”

“More than good,” Caleb added. “Much, much more.”

“But it is alright if they do not believe me,” Yasha said. “Truthfully. The fact that you and Caleb have already seen what you have is a problem enough.”

“Problem?” Jester echoed. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because we are not supposed to interfere with mortals,” Yasha sighed, and even sounded a little bit sheepish. “That is against our rules.”

“The rules of Pranked?” Nott asked.

“I do not understand.”

“Like the TV show.”

Yasha blinked. “Like…the what?”

Beau put her face in her hands. Jester and Fjord observed with expressions ranging from amused to incredulous.

“Look—" after a moment, Beau lifted her head. “Guys, I’m really _serious_ , about all this. Yasha’s an angel, she landed in the pond, then I promised to help her out. Yeah, okay, I see it now.” She took a moment to rub her eyes. “I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t believe it. I guess that’s fine.”

“More than fine,” Yasha agreed. “I do not want to bother anyone.”

“They _are_ telling the truth, though,” Caleb said. “I was there. I saw it all. Though…” he gave Yasha a curious glance. “I seem to recall…didn’t you have wings?”

All eyes affixed on the would-be-angel. Yasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I, ah…I put them away,” she mumbled. “When, when all of your friends walked in.”

Beau’s face lit up like a sparkler. “Shit, though, that’s it, Yash! I didn’t even notice that they were gone, but that’s the answer! All you gotta do is pop them out, _t_ _hat’ll_ convince everyone that I’m right. We’re right,” she amended hastily.

Yasha shifted around once again. “I, er…I _really_ should not do that, though,” she mumbled. “I am _not_ supposed to interfere with mortals.”

Caleb gave her a very faint grin. “You fell from the sky,” he said gently. “You talked to the two of us, then apparently you carried me home. It seems as if…that rule has already been broken, _ja_?”

The room fell silent. Yasha considered this. Then her shoulders gradually untensed.

“Well…” she murmured, “…I _suppose_ that is true.”

“Plus it’s like, fuckin’ _awesome_ ,” Beau said eagerly. “Seriously. I’ve never seen anything cooler.”

Fjord, Nott, and Jester looked on. Nott raised an eyebrow.

“I mean…if you’re being serious…”

“That sounds _so cool_!” Jester gushed.

“Beau’s right,” Fjord said mildly, leaning back and crossing his arms. “That’d convince me.”

Yasha blinked. “Er…er…” she trailed off, clearly nervous about being the center of so much attention. Beau felt her chest pang in sympathy, and she almost considered reaching out, taking it back, giving up and letting her friends just walk away, but before she could do anything of the sort, Yasha set her mug onto the table.

She stood up from the couch. She took a deep breath.

“Very…very well. All of you, stand back.”

They watched her maneuver around the sofa, then take a moment to steel herself.

She closed her eyes.

The gang exchanged glances.

“Look, you don’t have to—” Fjord began.

And then there was a sudden rush of wind, a frenzied gust of shifting and unfurling as out from behind Yasha’s back came two huge, dappled, white-feathered wings that shot out into the silence and blew through the air.

One of them hit the fireplace and knocked a frame onto the rug. The other whacked Caleb in the head.

“Ow,” he said immediately, with a muffled swear thrown in for color. “ _Bitte_ , I have had enough.”

Nott instinctively gave him a sympathetic, though absent-minded pat on the lower arm. She was, understandably, more preoccupied with the goddamn angel standing in their living room.

Fjord and Jester wore similarly stunned expressions.

Yasha stared back at everyone else. Her eyes nervously scanned their faces like a 6-year-old at a spelling bee.

“Um,” she said. “Um. Is it…is it okay?”

When nobody said anything, she took a step back. Then she flinched, as another picture frame fell on the floor. She winced, and reached back to try and fold her wings away, accompanied by a string of:

“Sorry, sorry—oh, gosh—I am sorry, I forget how large these are, forgive—"

She hit the lamp hanging from the ceiling. It began to swing back and forth overhead.

The assembled humans watched this happen. Faces frozen, mouths agape.

A few moments passed. Yasha grabbed at her back. The light above them danced wildly across her face. Then:

“What the _f_ —”

“Holy _shi_ —”

“Oh my _g_ —”

“Fuck _me_.”

This last outburst came from Beau. Fjord managed to close his mouth at that, and gave her a rather weak look.  “Why are _you_ surprised?” he croaked.  “I thought you already _knew_ that she was…fuckin’ heavenly, and all.”

“Yeah,” Beau murmured, “heavenly, alr—"

And then she was cut off, as Jester elbowed her out of the way and scrambled across the coffee table. Her eyes glinted in the low cabin light.

She came to a halt at the edge of carpet, one of her hands outstretched, fingers trembling.

“Can I…can I touch…?” she whispered.

Yasha was halfway through stowing her wings. She froze when she heard this, and looked up with wide eyes.

Beau would never stop being amazed by how much emotion lived on this angel’s face. She was nothing at all like the marble statues that Beau had seen all throughout her childhood; for one thing, Yasha was alive. For another, she was blushing.

“Er…er…” Yasha’s gaze darted to her, seeking reassurance. Beau almost died on the spot.

“Just...just…say something, if you don’t want her to,” she managed eventually. She tried to look as supportive as she could. “Use your words, it’ll be enough.”

“That’s true,” Jester was quick to nod, and draw her hand back in apology. “Sorry, um, if that was rude.”

“No, no,” Yasha visibly relaxed. “I was just…surprised, is all.” Very, very carefully, she extended her left wing. She motioned for Jester to take a step closer. ‘Here,” she said. “You can, um…gently, please.”

She winced when Jester squealed, but her nervousness proved completely unwarranted. Jester’s fingers were as light a whisper as they trailed down the edge of a feather.

“They’re…so soft,” she murmured, watching them quiver with her palm. Then she looked up and met Yasha with a smile.

“Thanks.”

The corner’s of the angel’s mouth twitched. “You…you are welcome,” she murmured. A faint grin— _was that pride?—_ played in her eyes.

“What did that feel like?” Nott spoke up, unable to hold back any longer. “Was that good? Bad? How sensitive are they?”

Yasha tilted her head to the side. Her feathers rustled as she moved. “It is like…hmm. Have you ever felt fur brush against your hand?”

“I had a cat,” Caleb said. “Is it like that?”

“Reversed,” Yasha hummed, which explained nothing. “It is almost the opposite of that.”

This was met with a chorus of nods, given by people who had long since given up on understanding. Then Fjord gave a soft cough.

“Well, uh…I think this answers our first question,” he said, his voice sounding miles away. “You, uh…yeah. That’s the whole look. Toga, wings, all you’re missing is the halo.”

“Again,” Caleb said quietly, “beings of fire, covered in eyes—”

Beau groaned. “Shut _up_.”

They watched Yasha finish putting away her wings, which draped neatly across her shoulders and back like a feathered cloak. Then she shrugged once, and they completely disappeared.

She reached for her soda. She took another sip. When nobody said anything for a few seconds, she lowered her mug and cocked her head to one side.

“Is…everything alright?” she asked. “Are you…shoot, was that too much?”

Caleb was the first to find his voice. “No, no,” he said gently, “I believe that was… _ja_. Just enough. But, ah…I still have some questions. Like, for example—”

“What are you _doing_ here?” Nott screeched. “I mean…you’re an _angel_! What does that…even _mean_? About the universe, about us, I mean…are you here for _us?_ ”

“Are you here to _smite_ someone?” Jester shoved another cookie in her mouth. “Is that it, then?”

Yasha took a drag of stale soda.

“Actually, ah…it is funny that you ask this question,” she muttered. “I, ah…oh, this is awkward.”

She cleared her throat and put her cup down.

“I, er…I do not actually know why I am here.”

There was a pause. Fjord broke it.

“You _what_?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Yasha repeated. “I do not know why I am here. I do not remember how I fell. And I certainly do not remember what my original purpose in descending was. My memory is, er…missing, in these regards.”

They all took another moment to digest this. Then Nott spoke up, voice quavering and slightly nervous.

“Isn’t…isn’t that sort of _suspicious_?” she asked, looking Yasha up and down. “I mean, you… _fell_? Shouldn’t that be…shouldn’t that be a huge red flag, or something?”

“That’s fair,” Fjord agreed slowly. “I don’t mean to be rude again, Miss Yasha, but isn’t there…isn’t there a… _specific word,_ for ‘fallen angel’?”

Yasha was silent for a few beats. She drank some very awful Dr. Pepper.

“I still have my wings,” she said eventually, as if that was all she needed. “They are still here. Which means we should not worry.”

The gang turned to Beau for confirmation, who shrugged in the universal gesture of _fuck if I know, man_.

“If, ah, if this is the case,” Caleb moved on for the sake of their slipping sanity, “why do you not just return home, then? Why can you not just _fly_ back to heaven?”

Yasha sighed. “It is a bit more complicated than that. I seem unable to just… _go back_ , I think because I was sent down here for a purpose. And if I am to return, I would need to be summoned, or find a gateway and open it up myself. That is how it usually works, you know. Otherwise anyone could just wander in and out of our realm, and that would be…bad.”

“But then…what about you?” Jester gasped. “Does this mean you’re stuck here _forever_?”

“I certainly hope not,” Yasha muttered. “I _know_ that I must go home. I know this, it is…it is a feeling, deep in my being. And I know, at least, that I do this by finding Iothia.”

“Iothia?” Fjord echoed. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I know the answer to _that_ one,” Beau said. “It’s a place on Earth. Yasha’s convinced it’ll lead her home.”

“Like there’s a gate there, or something?” Jester asked.

“Possibly,” Yasha shrugged. “Or perhaps it is where I was supposed to land and carry out my mission.”

Nott raised an eyebrow and reached for a cookie. “Then…what’s the problem?” she asked. “Why not fly over there right now?”

Yasha sighed. She leaned into the couch.

“Because I do not know where it is. I am not even sure where to _start_ looking.”

“ _Was_?” Caleb spilled crumbs into his lap. “But…but…you are an _angel_. How could you _not_ know?”

Yasha gave him a very complicated stare. “Probably because of what went wrong in my descent. But, as I have already told Beauregard, I am now lost in your world. And stuck, until I can find my way back.” She sat up a little straighter, then glanced over to the curtained windows. “And truly,” she muttered quietly, “as much as I appreciate your kindness, I am concerned that this issue is far too troublesome for any of you to concern yourselves w—”

“Yasha, no, I promise it’s not!” Beau was on her feet in seconds. “Seriously, I _told_ you I’d do my best to help. If you really are lost like this, you shouldn’t have to go it alone!” She glared at her friends with a pointed expression. “And look— _look._ I know that this is a _lot_ to take in. Believe me, I’ve barely got a hold on it, myself. And I know it’s late, and I bet you’re all tired, but, at least…at least…do you guys mind if she stays here for a while? Just for a bit. Just until I can help her find some leads. You don’t have to do anything, but I know I gotta t—”

“I’ll help.”

“—ry.” Beau blinked. “ _What_?”

“I’ll help,” Jester repeated. She was munching on a cookie. “I think that it’s sad that you can’t go home, Yasha. I know what it’s like, and I know how much it sucks.” She gave the angel a sympathetic smile. “Plus, you’re my friend now! So that means I’ll do my best.”

Yasha stared at her incredulously. After a moment of disbelief, she found her tongue.

“But…but what if you get hurt?” she began. “What if something happens—"

“Actually,” Caleb raised a hand, “I would like to officially join as well. I feel invested in this endeavor. I promise I will not faint again.”

“Yeah, sure, what the hell,” Fjord sat up. “I’ll help too, if you’ll have me. It’s not like I’m busy now, or nothin’.”

Beau and Yasha stared at them in wordless surprise. Nott sighed and crossed her arms. “Well,” she said dramatically, “I _guess_ I’m in too. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you all.”

“I can dig out our sleeping bag!” Jester beamed at the stunned angel. “Do you need to sleep? There’s room on our floor, or you can take the couch if you’d like.”

Yasha leaned in very close to Beau, whose tongue had turned to jelly and whose eyes had begun to sparkle.

“What is a sleeping bag?” she whispered.

Beau stared at her friends. She opened her mouth. She turned to look at Yasha. She closed it again. She reached for a mug of stale soda.

“It’s a sort of bag that you put your body in,” Jester explained, when Beau continued to just say nothing. “Here, after I find it, I’ll show you.”

“And if you’re cold,” Fjord said, chiming in, “I think we have some extra blankets. Er…somewhere.”

“Ooh, clothes too!” Jester clapped her hands together. “Momma rented the cabin out a few weeks ago, the people who stayed here left some stuff behind.”

“Is that…legal?” Fjord raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not _un_ -legal.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

“Do you have a plan for finding information?” Caleb asked. “I might be able to assist in that department.”

“Me too,” Nott grinned. “We can go to the school tomorrow. I’ve got a library pass and everythin’.”

And as they patiently waited for an answer, very, very slowly, Yasha turned to look at Beau.

There was a moment, as the universe held its breath.

Beau felt the corners of her lips forming a smile.

“I mean...yeah. Yeah,  _fuck_ yeah!"

 

She nodded to her friends.

"That's it, guys. Now we have a plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for reading!! As you can see, I am slowly easing back into the schedule of an author frantically writing chapters and then uploading them, so your comments and kudos is especially appreciated. If you like this story, please share it with a friend!! And, as always, you can expect the next update in a week-ish, and BOY am I excited for it. 
> 
> Feel free to swing by and find me [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, where I have a plethora of drabbles and fic requests. My inbox is always open!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and see ya next time <3


	4. The Greatest Thing Earth Has to Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring: the inventor of the car, adventures in the library, empire siblings strike back, bro time, the greatest thing earth has to offer

“Your elbow is in my _ass_ ,” Beau complained, as Caleb tried to press himself against the window and as far away from her as possible. At the other end of their extremely cramped bench, Jester had Nott sitting partly in her lap, mostly smooshed against the door. Both of them were trying to not eat the other’s hair.

“Is this how humans always travel?” Yasha glanced over her shoulder. As the only divine being of the group, they’d unanimously assigned her to the passenger seat.

Also, she was too big for the back.

“Well, not always,” Fjord turned the wheel. “Sometimes we just take the bus.”

“Bus?”

“Picture this, but bigger.”

“Seriously, when was the last time you were on Earth?” Nott leaned out of Jester’s grasp. “Come on, you don’t remember _cars_?”

“Yeah,” Jester added, “those things were invented like a _million_ years ago! Practically in the 1700s.”

“Actually, 1885,” Caleb said. “The inventor was a German, by the name of Karl Benz—"

Beau groaned loudly, cutting him off. “No! No nerd shit now, _please._ Your face is _way_ too close to mine. I can only take so much torture at once.”

“You consider _that_ torture?” Yasha frowned. “He did not even use a single knife.”

This was met with the quick beat of silence that had become rather customary following most of Yasha’s remarks. Fjord broke it a few seconds later by pulling into the parking lot and bringing their mobile sardine can to a halt.

“Alrighty gang, here we are.” He tugged his keys out of the ignition. “Please keep all hands, feet, and objects inside the vehicle until we come to a full stop.”

“We just did,” Nott yanked on the door handle. “Come on, Fjord, open up!”

“Wait, wait, wait! Before you do!” Jester thumped the back of Yasha’s seat. “Do you remember what we talked about? The details of the plan, and all that?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Beau sighed. “She doesn’t need a cover story to enter a _library_.”

“It does not hurt,” Caleb shrugged.

“And it makes _me_ feel like a spy,” Nott grinned. “Me Jester had fun with this one.”

“Oh, boy.” Fjord closed his eyes. “That’s not a good sign.”

“Go for it,” Jester said encouragingly. “Just like I told you yesterday.”

“I, er…I am an exchange student,” Yasha recited. “From the far-off country of Ice and Land. My mother fed me lots of milk when I was young, which is why I am so fucking tall. I am studying something called ‘comp-u-ter-science,’ but in my free time I play rugby. I am in love with your country which is why I am here in the summer still learning.”

The car fell silent. Yasha stared at them expectantly.

“I, ah, I have a good memory for instructions,” she added softly, when they continued to say nothing. “I admit, I do not know a lot of what that meant.”

Another second passed. Then Caleb reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Maybe just stick with us, okay?”

Fjord was gaping incredulously at Jester. He mouthed: _computer science?_

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she muttered.

“Well, at least she’s got a good disguise.” Nott leaned back and crossed her arms. “That’s half the battle, in espionage.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Fjord gave a nod. “Nice baseball cap. Go Sabres.”

“Yeah,” Beau said, half-absently. “Yasha, you look _great_ without sleeves.”

Yasha blinked, and slowly met her gaze. “Oh, ah…oh. Is that so?”

“Yeah!” Jester grinned, jumping in. “Yasha, you’re _rocking_ this look! You look like a _hot_ construction-worker.”

“…thank you?”

“Don’t mention it!”

“Oh my _god,”_ Nott moaned, yanking on the door once more. “Christ, let me _out_ , come on, let me out! Fjord, I can’t take it any longer. Why does your dumb car have _child_ locks, anyway?”

“Honestly? No idea,” he shrugged. “I got it second-hand, so they were already in. Plus, I knew that you’d be riding.”

His smirk faded slightly under the weight of Nott’s glare. He relented, and hit the button to release them.

She was out in a millisecond, swearing all the way.

“I’m a _mother_!” she screeched through the window. “Not a _child_ , you’ve seen _pictures_ of my child!”

“I’m still more mature,” Fjord argued as he got out. “I’m _older_ than you!”

“By _three_ years! Fuck off, you bastard-man—”

Caleb made eye contact with Yasha to the tune of their friends screaming outside.

“Welcome to our school,” he said dryly. “We are an elite group of researchers, and this is an extremely positive learning environment.”

\--------------------------------

Sieversii College, established at some point in the late 1700s before the invention of the car by someone with altogether too much free time, was one of the many small, private, liberal-arts institutions that plagued the northeastern United States. This particular school was nestled somewhere in the middle of a gorgeous purple mountain range and neighbored a wide, pine-filled natural park, thus making it so isolated from modern society that, over the years, it had produced a number of incredible scholars and erudites whose ideas and hypotheses would presumably shape the world for generations to come.

Unfortunately, though, not everybody was so susceptible to Education. Beauregard, as they trekked up the sidewalk to the library, had to suppress a shiver.

It wasn’t that she hated learning per say, and it wasn’t that she was actually _opposed_ to attending school. It was just the manner in which she’d been forced to. Nasty irrelevant details aside, the sight of all these summer students, youthful and grinning and brimming with ambition, left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. It was a good thing she was here to help out a hot angel, because honestly, otherwise, she might not have come back.

Definitely. Not in a million years. Probably. Anyways—

She was so wrapped up in these irritating thoughts that she almost didn’t notice when Yasha touched her shoulder.

As such, she jolted up about a foot off the ground, startling the angel as well as herself.

The rest of their friends were far enough ahead that none of them really paid this any attention. Beau took a moment to yank back her own heartbeat.

“ _Jesus_ ,” she said, trying to remember how to breathe, “Yash, oh…oh my _god._ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” the angel said hastily. “I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you.”

“Well.” She smoothed down her well-rumpled tank-top. “Well, I don’t know if I was _scared_ —”

Yasha waved at the general area around her shoulders. “Your aura suddenly got all…spiky, though. It was very dark before, so I was worried about you.”

 _I was worried about you_.

Beau opened her mouth to respond. She closed it. She thought about this, then asked:

“Uh…why?”

Yasha was taken aback. “Why?” she echoed. “W…well, why not?”

This was an interesting line of reasoning that Beau had admittedly never pursued before. Still, old habits died pretty hard.

“’Cause there’s nothin’ to be worried about,” she said, and started to walk just a little bit faster. “Really, don’t bother yourself. I’m fine.”

“You are certain?”

She flashed back a smile. “Of course. You probably don’t know this, Yash, but humans are a lot tougher than you’d think.”

Yasha caught up and mulled this over.

“That is…that is fair, I suppose. Just on the route up, I saw a group of younger humans wrestling.” She nodded approvingly. “That is good for training to fight.”

“Er…yeah, exactly,” Beau nodded. “Give us more credit. We made it as a species this long, right?”

They rounded another grassy corner. The sloping silhouette of the library—built in what Beau thought of as Colonial College Chic—loomed above them as they drew closer.

“Still,” Yasha murmured, after a faint pause. “I, ah…I _am_ still worried. It is…well, you cared about me when I fell. And you are a good person, Beauregard. That is why you volunteered to help me, yes? It is only fair that I return the kindness.”

Beau had to fight back a snort. She managed instead to make a strangle grumbling sound.

“It’s not so much a _kindness_ , man. We agreed that you’d help carry Caleb back, and in return, I’d help you find your place. I’m just fulfilling the deal.”

Yasha’s nostrils instantly flared. Her eyes narrowed, her lips thinned.

“ _Deal_?” she repeated, quietly, incredulously. “That is…Beauregard, this is no _deal_.”

“Are you sure?” Beau raised a careful eyebrow. “It sounds pretty deal-like to me—”

“No!” Yasha’s voice carried through the air. Around them, a couple faces turned to stare. Jester glanced back and gave a puzzled smile.

“It is _not_ what you believe,” Yasha continued, words practically hissing with rage, “I cannot believe you would even _think_ —"

“Shit, shit, okay, calm down,” Beau quickly raised her hands. She took a relieved breath when Yasha settled slightly. “Look, look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know it meant that much to you. It’s just a word, Yasha. For us, it’s just a word.”

The rest of Yasha’s metaphorical hackles fell. She rubbed her eyes, and gave a brief nod.

“It is not, for us,” she said. “But… _I_ am sorry too. For reacting the way I did. I can…I can explain later, but I want you to know, Beau, that this is _not_ a deal. Especially not to me.”

They locked eyes.

“You are doing something kind. I will not forget it.”

Beau felt her cheeks start to burn. Her mouth felt like a fine, dry sand.

She wondered, idly, at the back of her mind, if her ‘aura’ thing was giving her away. _I wonder_ , she thought, _if I can keep it under control_ —

But before she could even begin puzzling that out, she and Yasha walked directly into Caleb. He went flying into Jester, who caught him with ease and set him back on his feet.

“We’re here,” Fjord announced, as Nott began to fret. “The four of us have IDs, so we can just go in, but someone’ll need to sign for Yash—”

“Got it,” said Beau, grateful for the distraction. “No worries. They love me here.”

“That felt like sarcasm.”

“It was, but no big.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not like they can say _no_ , you know?”

Caleb dusted his t-shirt off. “In that case, I will meet you at the geography section. I am planning to start with Eastern Europe—”

Jester quickly cut him off. “Re _-lax_ ,” she said, tapping the side of her bag. “I brought my computer! We can just google this ‘Iothia’ place, and we’ll be outta here in no time! The wonders of modern technology,” she added, giving Yasha a delighted grin. “Just you wait and see, there’s nothin’ like it.”

  --------------------------------

An hour later, they still had nothing.

Caleb and Nott had vanished long ago to scour any and every religious journal they could find, without a single hopeful word spoken since. Fjord was tearing his way through the history section, consumed by the sheer volume of tomes, practically drowning in a pile of useless paper. Beauregard, who had gone to scour the world atlases, returned after forty minutes of no success and threw a stack of newspapers onto the table, reasoning that, perhaps, Iothia was someplace new.

Although, evidently, not new enough for Jester to find a single trace of on the Internet.

“Which is weird, you know?” she whispered to Yasha. They’d already been shushed six times by the librarian. “Usually you can look up _anything_. Literally anything at all! Look, look, what’s your favorite dog?”

“My…favorite what?”

Jester giggled. “Here, I’ll just search ‘poodle’ as an example.”

Her fingertips clacked away on the keyboard, and a few seconds later an assortment of pooches appeared across the computer screen.

Yasha leaned in, clearly impressed. For someone who’d fallen out of the sky and into the 21st Century not but fifteen hours ago, she was doing remarkably well.

“And what is this machine powered by again?” She gently pressed a hand to the side of the computer. “Surely not magic?”

Jester giggled again. “No, silly, not magic! Well, maybe it’s a kind of magic—”

“ _Shhhh!_ ”

“…a kind of magic,” she whispered. “Mostly it’s just science. Electricity, you know? Caleb is the expert on this stuff, I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain.”

“He just _loves_ giving drawn-out explanations.” Beau slowly rolled off her stack of newspapers and onto the side of her face. “God, I haven’t found _anything_. Yasha, you’re _sure_ that Iothia’s a real place?”

“As sure as anything. I know this in my bones.”

“Great.” Beau pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong _language_ , or something? Or maybe we should try a better keyword search. Yasha, what do you _remember_ about it?”

She blinked. “Er…remember?”

“Yeah, you know,” Beau peeked one eye open. “Like…how was the weather there? Were there trees? Was there water?” Her other eye opened. “You _have_ been there before, right?”

Yasha’s expression did not inspire confidence. Her brow furrowed.

“Iothia…” she murmured. “I…I am not so sure. I remember the name…it is the way home…”

“Were there birds?” Jester asked, poised to type. “Were there bees, or was it windy, or did you have lots to eat?”

“Did… _did_ I…?” Yasha scratched her head. “I think…I cannot…I am not sure if I have _been_ to Iothia before. I…I _must_ have, yes? I must know of it _somehow,_ yes? Otherwise how could I be so _sure_ …?”

There was a beat, where they all stared at each other. Yasha’s shoulders slumped down at her side.

“I cannot remember,” she muttered. “I am…sorry. I do not even know _how_ I know this.”

“Maybe it’s godly knowledge,” Jester tried, still managing to keep her voice bright. “Maybe someone stuck it into your brain before you fell. You know, like emergency coordinates.”

“No, no, I am almost _certain_ that no…no gods have to do with this.” Yasha dropped her forehead against the tabletop. “No, this is…this is something more,” she sighed, “but I cannot seem to recall right now. Sorry, this must be very frustrating for you all.”

“There, there, Yasha,” Jester gave her pat. “This is probably _way_ more frustrating for _you_. Maybe you just need time to remember! Sometimes I don’t remember things until _years_ after they’ve happened.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “ _Really_? Like what?”

She shrugged. “Ask me again in a few years. I’m sure I’ll have something.”

There was a strange vibration from the desk. Yasha had sighed.

“Maybe we should just give up,” she mumbled. “It is not too late for me take off and just do a few laps around the earth.”

“No,” said Beau.

Yasha looked up.

“No?”

“Yeah, no,” she repeated firmly. Then she pushed aside the newspapers. “Look, Yash, we _promised_ that we’d help. And I know that some of us have got some _big_ brains! We’ll find the place in no time. Besides, you wouldn’t want to scare the entire world with angel sightings, would you?”

Yasha rubbed her chin. “I…suppose you have a point there,” she relented. “Your Caleb fainted the first time, yes? Who knows how many others would too?”

She sounded like she was almost trying to convince herself.

Beau nodded sagely. “Exactly,” she said. “And it’s against the rules, right? No interference, and all that? If that’s the case, then it’s better to just hang with the five of us, then to expose yourself to seven billion randos.”

Yasha instantly looked aghast. “Seven _billion_? You mean _people_?”

“Oh.” Too late, Beau realized her mistake. “Oh, boy,” she said. “Er....yeah. I mean people.”

Yasha opened her mouth. She closed it again.

“But…that is…that is just so _many_. When did…when did all of _that_ happen?”

“I dunno. Recently, probably? I don’t know that much about, uh, sociology, I guess.”

“How many people do _you_ remember?” Jester asked. “Six billion? Five? Something in the thousands?”

Yasha scratched the back of her head. “I, ah…I am not entirely sure,” she admitted. “Maybe something like that, I suppose. Does your…does your machine have a list of all the humans? Can you search that? I quite would like to see.”

“ _Well_ …that might take a while."

Beau sighed, and rose from her chair. “I’m going to go check on the others,” she said. “See if they’ve found anything, and all that. Good, uh…good luck, you two.”

She slipped past the bookshelves just as Jester began to type.

“Okay, okay…maybe there’s some kind of worldwide Yellow Pages…”

  --------------------------------

“Caleb! _Pssst_ , Caleb! Hey, fucker, over here.”

There was a faint grunt of non-acknowledgement, then Beau rolled her eyes and whacked him over the head with a newspaper.

“ _Ow_!” He looked up at her and glared. “ _Scheisse_ , Beauregard, what was that for?”

“It was to get your attention,” she said, wielding her paper tube like a club. “I need to know if you’ve found anything yet.”

Nott appeared from around a stack of books. “Don’t do that,” she chided, “he’s already had enough brain trauma this the week.”

“ _Ja_ , she is right, you know.”

“Have _you_ found anything, then?” Beau asked her. “Come on, I’ve got the hottest lady in the world just sitting forty feet away and getting antsier by the minute.”

“You’re sure that _she’s_ the one getting antsy?” Nott raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re gonna explode, or something.”

“I _feel_ like I’m gonna explode,” Beau muttered. “I hate libraries.”

“Don’t be like that,” she countered. “They’re a great community resource.”

Beau gave Nott a scathing look and did not relent until she rolled her eyes and vanished back through the bookshelves.

“You could always try the computer lab,” Caleb suggested as she left, “I am sure that Jester could use a hand sifting through all her material.”

“That’s just the thing, though,” Beau sighed. “There _is_ no material. Nada. Zilch. We couldn’t find a single mention of the place. Literally nothing. At _all_.”

There was a pause. Caleb set his tome down.

“ _Nothing_?”

“You heard me.”

“…and you spelled it correctly?”

Beau snorted loudly. “None of us _knows_ how it’s spelled, doofus. Though, just to be sure, we tried ‘Eothia,’ ‘Iathia,’ and ‘Eaothia’ too. None of it really turned up anything. Iothia’s a genus of snail, though.”

Caleb scratched his chin. “That is…odd. I really thought at least you three would have some luck.”

Beau sat down on the carpeted floor. “Meaning that you and Nott still haven’t?”

“Correct,” Caleb leaned back against the shelf. “Just as you said, there are no hints of anything. So far, at least. Give us more time, and we might be able to scrounge something up.”

“That’s fair,” Beau sighed. “I guess it’s still early. We shouldn’t give up _that_ easy, right?”

“Of course. It is a wonderful exercise, and also the kind thing to do, _ja_?”

Beau paused.

“The…kind thing to do,” she murmured. “Yeah. I mean…yeah, but…Caleb, is that why _you’re_ helping?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Er…what?”

Her gaze locked onto his in an almost uncomfortable way. “I wanna know why you’re helping,” she said. “It can’t be as simple as _that_ , can it?”

Caleb scratched his neck. “I mean… _einen Augenblick_ , why do you want to know?”

Beau’s expression went slightly sheepish. “I dunno,” she said quickly. “I mean, I guess I just…I guess I’m just thinking about my motivation.”

“…your what?”

“Motivation,” she scowled. “Clean out your ears. Anyways, I’ve just been thinking. And wondering about something, recently. Why did you agree when I said we should help Yasha? And was it weird, that _I’m_ who suggested it?”

Caleb stared at her.

“Do _you_ think it is?”

“Yeah, a bit. I mean—and don’t laugh, or I’ll kill you—but why did I do something so _nice_? You don’t think it’s her angelic influence or some bullshit like that, do you?”

Caleb’s brow shifted, as if he was searching for the right answer. Eventually, very cautiously, he said:

 “I, er, I _suppose_ it was vaguely…out of character, but…Beauregard, can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

He took a deep breath.

“In that case, I…if you are asking about motivation, and if I am being entirely truthful, well…er… _well_ —”

“C’mon, spit it out.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I assumed you were doing this because you liked Yasha. Not ‘like,’ but… _like_ ,” he added quickly. “You know. I thought you wanted to…sleep with her. And, and, and…I am on your side here, so I hope that you know I only mean well when is say that, well…that you need to be careful. Yasha is… she seems like a good person. I assume that she is good. But…as we have seen, she is certainly not a _person_. Per say. She is...all evidence points to her being an angel. And if you try to…to _be_ with her, my friend, then I cannot be sure—”

Beau burst out laughing.

Caleb fell silent.

“Ah,” he said.

In a breathless fit, she smacked the shelf behind her so hard that a couple books came tumbling down.

“Oh my—oh my _god_ , Caleb, oh my _god_ , no—”

“I am incorrect.”

“Yeah, holy _fuck_!” She threw her arms into the air. “Jesus, well, no, I mean…I’d be blind to not have thought about it…to not have thought about it a _lot_ —”

“Ick—”

“Okay, shut up. You’re the one who brought it up.” She set a few loose pages aside. “No, jesus, no, I just…I _assumed_ I volunteered to help because it felt right. That’s all. Like a…subconscious thing.”

Caleb nodded very slowly. “I suppose…that also could make sense. But…maybe, just in case, er…if you are still confused about that…I would say…I think I would say that people are rarely so selfless, Beauregard. And I am not saying that you are a bad person. Just that you are…well, a person. And maybe you have person-reasons for what you did.”

A pause.

“What?”

Caleb sighed. “Nevermind,” he waved a hand. “Just…just be careful, _ja_? Sometimes you do not realize why you are doing things, at first. Remember that, please. I should not like to see you burned.”

She stared at his expression, solemn in the gentle light. After a few resistant seconds, she sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, alright.”

Then she rose up from the carpet and dusted the lint off her shorts. “I’m gonna go check on the others,” she said. “Call me if you find anything?”

He glanced up. He gave her a soft smile.

“ _Ja,_ of course, Beauregard. Of course.”

\--------------------------------

“The closest thing I could find to ‘Iothia’ is this little guy,” Fjord said, as Beau took a seat by his side. “Look, they even drew in a picture.”

“ _Iothia emarginuloides_ ,” she leaned over his shoulder. “It’s a…true limpet. Is that a snail? ‘Cause earlier, Jester found a snail.”

“Probably?” Fjord shrugged. Maybe, but…either way, it’s the _only_ mention of ‘Iothia’ that I’ve found.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Beau put her head in her hands. “Why is this so fucking _hard_?”

“Sorry. I could be spelling it wrong.”

“I don’t think _spelling_ ’s the issue,” she muttered. “Now I’m really startin’ to think this place is fake. Or maybe it’s so old, books hadn’t even been invented yet. _Nobody_ else found anything, either.” She poked one eye out and squinted at the shelves. “I wish I could just _punch_ and get the answer. That would be way fuckin’ easier.”

“How ‘bout I try lookin’ in Spanish?” Fjord suggested. “Maybe ‘Iothia’ is a different language.”

“I mean, _maybe_. Or maybe this whole thing’s just a waste of time! Maybe it _is_ better to let Yasha fly off and away on her own.”

Fjord leaned back in his seat. “Really? That seems…a bit cold, though, doesn’t? I mean, we already volunteered to help. And it’s not like we were doin’ much in the park. There’s only so many times we can walk to the lake and watch Nott yell at the waves.”

“She really wasn’t kidding about hating water.”

“No, she really wasn’t.” Fjord closed the cover of _Mollusks through the Ages_. “But hey, at least this is a good distraction.” He gestured at the stack of books on the table. “Our angelic scavenger hunt is probably helping take your mind off of all that…you know, all that family stuff, right?”

Beau immediately re-buried her face. “Fuck, don’t _remind_ me,” she groaned. “I’m trying not to _think_ about it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he quickly raised his hands. “I won’t mention it again.”

Then Beau sighed. She freed up just the corner of her mouth. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s…fine. I’m not _fragile_ , don’t worry. It’s not like it’s _affecting_ me, or whatever.”

“Really?”

“I’m great at ignoring things,” she muttered. “And it’s not like my parents have a great track record, anyway.”

“That’s _really_ concerning.”

She gave a faint grin, and moved to elbow Fjord in the shoulder. “Take it from me. Having parents isn’t always great, either. _Especially_ not when they’re assholes, like mine.”

He chose another book and thumbed the cover thoughtfully.

“Yeah, alright,” he said eventually. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They lapsed into a slow silence after that, filled with the murmur of ruffling pages. Fjord, like Caleb, had amassed a den of books, and was methodically flipping through the contents of each one. Most were personal accounts by religious scholars or historians investigating old civilizations, with a few random books on angels thrown in for color. But as the seconds continued to creep by, searching for ‘Iothia’ with nothing else to go on was beginning to feel more and more like a lost cause.

After a couple minutes, Beau spoke:

“Hey,” she said lightly, turning a page, “what do you think about Yasha?”

Fjord glanced up. “Think?” he echoed. “Well, what d’you mean by that?”

“You know, like…how does she make you feel? Is she nice? Is she mean?” Beau put her book down. “I’m just tryin’ to get a beat on, you know. On what you guys think of her. It _is_ kinda my fault that you were dragged into meeting ‘er.”

“Sure, but it’s not like that’s a bad thing,” Fjord said. “I mean…I guess she seems…pretty fine? The whole ‘angel’ thing was a lot at first, but really she acts like any other person. She’s kinda quiet. Says some weird shit. But…I dunno. Overall, she seems fine.”

Then he raised an eyebrow.

“Why, how do _you_ feel?”

Beau instantly frowned. “What is this, kindergarten? Want me to get into a sharing circle?”

“… _you_ started it.”

She sighed. She tipped her chair up onto two legs. “Yeah, yeah, alright. I dunno, I guess I feel the same as you. She’s…weird as shit, but like…not in a bad way. And she’s…she’s kind of soft. But _hard_ at the same time. And jesus, have you seen those _arms_ —”

Fjord chuckled softly. “Like a marble statue. Muscles and toga and wings ‘n all. Well, it’s a tank top and shorts, right now.”

“Caleb thought I was helping her because I wanna have sex.”

Fjord shot back so quickly that he collided with his books.

“You—that’s— _what_?” he demanded. He retrieved a fallen journal and stared at her incredulously. “Is that…are you… _is_ that somethin’ you’d be…partial to?”

Beau rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. Of _course_. But that’s just ‘cause, you know…hot girl. But that doesn’t mean I wanna…I mean, come on, you _know_ me. I’m not a _creep_.”

He recovered slightly. “Right, right. Yeah.”

“And there’s no sinister motive here!” she continued, voice beginning to rise. “I’m not…I’m not a fuckin’ _monster_! Before, I thought it felt right, and now I just...dunno. I guess...I thought...man, maybe Caleb _was_ right. This is _so_ not something I’d do.”

Fjord paused. “Is...is that something he said?”

“Might as well have. It’s not _wrong_.”

”Aw, hey, c’mon,” he tried a smile. “Maybe you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Beau shook her head, “or maybe, I had a _different_ motivation. Maybe I’m trying to distract myself from…other stuff.”

Fjord considered this. Then he leaned back. “Yeah, but I mean…is that so bad? If you ask me, as long as what you’re _doing_ is good, maybe it doesn’t matter what your real intentions are?”

Beau stared at him.

“That…sounds like something a supervillain would say.”

“Hey, I’m doing my _best_ , here!” He frowned. “At least give me a second to workshop it.”

This was enough to give her frown the faintest crack. A pinprick of humor glimmered in her eyes.

“Better not,” she tapped the books on the table. “After all, you still haven’t sorted all of these.”

Fjord groaned, thought mostly for solidarity.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He sighed for extra effect. “It’s summer. I should be _fishing._ ”

When Beau’s lips quirked upwards, he mentally celebrated a job well done.  

“Yeah, well, have fun, loser.” She smirked and rose from her chair. “I’m gonna go back and help Jes. Let, uh…let me know if you need a hand.”

Fjord grinned. He dipped his head.

“Sure. And you go ask Yasha if she’s looking for a limpet. Just in case. You never know, right?”

She hit him lightly on the arm.

“Between you and me, dude, I’m pretty sure it’s ‘no.’”

\--------------------------------

They ended up staying in the library past noon, then past one, past two, past three, all the way up until the sun began to set. At one point, driven on by a gnawing hunger, Caleb and Nott had vanished for a half an hour, only to return with two cans of Pringles and a horrific-looking sack of leathery jerky. They’d thrown it all down onto the table the group had annexed, blatantly ignoring the outrage of the librarian and digging in without a second thought. This, however, had prompted Jester to lament the fact that she hadn’t had pastries in _days_ , and Beau had reminded her that this was because she’d forgotten to bring any food to the cabin. Then Fjord protested that he’d been doing a pretty good job of catching fish, thank you very much, which resulted in Jester making uninterrupted gagging noises for an entire two minutes as the librarian started mentally reviewing her retirement funds.

Yasha had been rather bewildered by this display. Caleb assured her that this was normal.

“Anyways,” Beau added, pushing aside an empty Pringles Can, “maybe Jes _does_ have a point. The sun’s fuckin’ gone now, so maybe it’s best to just cut our losses and come back and try again tomorrow.”

“We _are_ in town,” Nott pointed out. “We could go get something to eat. And go to a _grocery_ store. I need a drink. Even beer will do.”

“Well, I suppose the Broad Barn should still be open. And the Leaky Tap does _great_ burgers,” Fjord said.

“Let’s stop at a bakery too,” Jester raised her hand. “I will _die_ if I don’t have sustenance! All I can think of are strawberry tarts and Danishes and muffins and bear claws and—"

Beau turned to Yasha as Jester continued raving. “Are you okay with that?” she asked. “I know finding this place is important, but I think we really do need a break.”

Yasha was on her feet in seconds. “No, no, I understand,” she said. “You humans must get your rest. And besides, I, ah…well, I have also been thinking—”

Beau felt her stomach starting to sink. “Yash, I’ve said before—”

The angel raised a calming hand. “I know,” she shook her head. “That is not what I meant. I was actually going to, ah…to thank you. All of you.”

The rest of the group paused at this. They turned to face her.

“Thank us?” Caleb echoed. “But…we have not succeeded, yet.”

“I am aware of that,” Yasha said, “but still. You are doing your best to try. And I have never been the wisest, and I am…sometimes prone to making fast decisions, so I wanted to thank you, and _you_ , Beauregard, for asking me to stay a while. I have…been doing some thinking, and…it would have been a bad decision for me to search for Iothia alone. The earth is more complicated than I remember. I would have gotten lost. And I might have scared more humans. So…thank you all, for your help. I am sorry if it is wasting your time.”

“No way!” Jester said immediately, leaping from her chair and practically throwing herself at Yasha for a hug. She pressed her cheek into the angel’s abdomen. “I’ve had a _ton_ of fun getting to know you, and showing you all my favorite videos.”

“Also, like we said before,” Fjord nodded. “It’s not like we’re doing anything else, right? I’m happy to help.”

“I as well,” Caleb added.

“Yeah, me too,” Nott chimed in. “Especially if we really _are_ going to get burgers.”

Yasha gazed above Jester’s head to once again turn back to Beau. There was a strange gleam in the other woman’s eyes, a bewildering, unreadable expression across her face. But the pattern of her spirit, the colors around her soul, the swirling warmth of sunlight made whole—

Even though Yasha wasn’t sure what it meant, she could still see, right there, plain as day, that whatever it was…whatever it could be…

It was beautiful.

Beau uncrossed her arms. Then she stood, walked over, laid a hand on Yasha’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” she said solemnly. “Don’t worry about that. Right now, all you’ve gotta know is that you’re about to see the greatest thing earth has to offer.”

She beamed, and it was beautiful.

“We call it: _curly fries.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for reading!! As you can see, I am slowly easing back into the schedule of an author frantically writing chapters and then uploading them, so your comments and kudos are especially appreciated. If you like this story, please share it with a friend!! And, as always, you can expect the next update in a week-ish, and....mwahahaha, i cannot WAIT!!
> 
> Feel free to swing by and find me [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, where I have a plethora of drabbles and fic requests. My inbox is always open!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and see ya next time <3


	5. Like Millennia Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaaaappy early update! featuring: the morning comes, eggs for all, return to the library, conversations with the gals, Beau does some googling, a talk is had, the re-evaluation of the plan

See:

A storm, the size of the world.

See stardust and ether, heat and raw plasma, churning and rumbling as the first clouds are formed. See lightning before light, see wind before air, see the rush, and the glimmer, and the whisper, and the spark.

Are you paying attention?

Good.

Now feel a hand resting on your shoulder.

Hear a voice, the beginning of it all:

_This is creation. Are you ready to protect it?_

Hear the answer, given long ago:

_Yes._

\--------------------------------

Yasha’s eyes flew open.

It was quiet on this morning in their small forest cabin, a few gentle hours after the dawn. A faint beam of sunlight left its glow on Jester’s bed, and Nott was curled up, passed out on the top bunk. On the floor of their bedroom was Beauregard, spread-eagle atop a checkered sleeping bag. They’d discovered two nights ago that it was too small for Yasha, so Beau had immediately surrendered her cot with the insistence that a guest shouldn’t sleep on the floor.

Now she was snoring serenely, a little bead of drool trailing out of her mouth.

Yasha was the only one to see this.

She sat there on her borrowed mattress a moment longer, basking in the peace.

\--------------------------------

Beau awoke to a terrible explosion of clanging metal and clattering pots from behind the wall next to the kitchen. She rolled over, buried her face into her pillow, but between that and the burning sunlight, her sleep had already been lost.

She groaned.

After a few more restless seconds, she got up.

Might as well at this point, anyway.

Carrying a helmet of terrible bed-head and a likely stomach-churning case of morning breath, she threw the blanket of her sleeping bag aside and lurched up to her feet. She found her slippers on the second try, and finally managed to open her eyes.

Their room was empty. Jester and Nott had already left their beds. Yasha’s cot was tragically unoccupied.

She’d folded up her covers and fluffed her pillow, though. That was...an unexpected touch.

Beau thought back to their conversation yesterday. Which was difficult, given her muddled brain. There had been some sort of loose end left behind, some unanswered question still prickling at her mind. Something about...protecting? About making deals?

Ah. _Auras_ , that was it.

The other mystic stuff, Beau really didn’t care about; after watching an angel fall from the sky, the smaller details of reality no longer mattered. But this aura thing, this supposed force-field of, of, of _energy_ or whatever, practically dripping vulnerability through the air… _that_ was something that Beau would worry about, if she was the type to be worried.

Absently, she wondered—as she also realized her slippers were on backwards—if there was a way to hide it. She was confident that Yasha was getting _too_ much information, not that she had anything to hide. Well, nothing too important, anyways. She was _really_ going to have to be better about control if she was even going to _think_ about hanging around the angel.

And with that thought lingering dangerously in her mind, she combed her fingers through her hair, straightened her tank top, and headed for the door.

She could smell breakfast cooking, and thank god, it wasn’t fish.

\--------------------------------

“Huevos rancheros!” Fjord declared with a wide smile; he was holding a spatula that Beau was sure they hadn’t bought. “I’d like to claim it’s an old family recipe, but you all’d know that isn’t the case. I printed it out when we were at the library.”

Behind him, looking sheepish, were Jester and Nott, cleaning up some broken glass. A number of fallen pots and pans lined the tiles around them.

Beau elected to ignore this. “It looks _amazing_ ,” she grinned at Fjord, sidling over to the breakfast table and sitting down next to Caleb. He was already pouring through a heavy tome, the title in a language that Beau didn’t know.

“Well, thank you kindly.” Fjord shook his pan. “I’ve already finished up everythin’ else, just give me a minute and I’ll add the eggs.”

“Me and Nott tried to help,” Jester interjected, finally unable to hold back any longer, “but Fjord kicked us out and now he won’t even let us _touch_.”

“You broke the salsa. I don’t even know how, but you _broke_ it, Jes. That, and a bunch of glass.”

“Touché,” said Nott.

“No, I said _no_ touching.”

To the background of their gentle bickering, Beau glanced at Caleb. “So, what?” she asked. “Yesterday not good enough? How are you _already_ reading again?”

He hummed faintly, and then turned the page. “Because...ah, I see...because we did not succeed. We still have nothing on this ‘Iothia’ thing. Not unless Yasha wants a snail.”

“I think she said she didn’t.”

“ _Ja_ , no kidding—” Beau stuck her tongue out, but he missed it, “—anyways, I have changed my tactic. I am looking in other languages now. I could not determine _what_ the word is, but because it is a genus, I decided to try Latin. If that does not work, I will shift to German, though I highly doubt anything will appear.”

She leaned back. “You speak _Latin_?”

“Well, not speak, it is more a written thing—”

Beau raised a hand. “Hang on, hang on, why didn’t you ever _tell_ us?”

“He’s being modest,” Nott pitched in. She pretended to throw a shard of glass at Fjord. “He’s _real_ smart, he knows a bunch more.”

“Is this true?”

“I…I speak basic French,” Caleb admitted. “And English. And I can read Sylvan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know you speak En— _what_?”

“Sylvan,” Caleb repeated. He turned another page. “It is the language of the fairies.”

“Get out.”

“No, no, I’ve heard of it before, too!” Jester finished stowing away the last pan. “In stories, and stuff, when I was little! Also, the Traveler used to sing it to me.”

Beau’s expression went slightly untethered. She gave Jester a very kind smile.

“That’s…okay, but the Traveler is special.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Jester shut the cabinet behind her. “And it is pretty crazy that _Caleb_ is the one speaking fairy-language.”

“ _Ach,_ what does that mean, Jester?”

“Also, where the _fuck_ did you find out about it?” Beau demanded. “That doesn’t…why haven’t I heard of it before?”

“Maybe you are not so well-read.”

“Fuck off.”

Caleb sighed. “ _Ja_ , well, is the truth. And besides, even if it _is_ fake—”

“It’s not,” said Jester.

“—er…right. Well,” he coughed, “well, even so, there was still enough written record of the language that scholars could reverse-engineer its grammar. Nobody can speak it—except the Traveler,” he added quickly, “but I can read it well enough.”

“He’s just that clever,” Nott said loyally. She joined them at the table and scrambled up into a chair. “Hey, Jessie, you think the Traveler could help us? Or maybe practice with Caleb? Give him a dictionary, or something?”

“Mmm… _maybe,_ but that sounds kind of too boring for him.” She flounced over as well. “Besides, I think I’ve said it before, but it’s been a _really_ long time since we’ve spoken. He pretty much stopped coming by after I turned fifteen.”

She sounded a little bit glum, saying that. Caleb tried to hand her a smile.

“I am sure he will return, one day, _Heidelbeere_. He probably just lost track of time.”

“Yeah!” It worked; Jester brightened almost immediately. “Yeah, I really hope he will. I miss him, you know?”

In the pause that followed, Beau glanced around. Something had just occurred to her.

“Hey, guys?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Where, uh, where’d the angel go?”

Fjord used his spatula to point to the window. “I think she went outside,” he called. “Probably to the porch?”

Beau jerked up. “ _Outside_?” she demanded. “Alone? How long—”

“Relax,” Caleb muttered. He’d picked his book up again and resumed reading. “She told us to tell you that she was not leaving. She just wanted a bit of fresh air.”

“Though,” Fjord added, “someone should get her now. Eggs are done, it’s time to eat. And I could use a hand setting the table, maybe— _no, not you two—_ hey, Caleb?”

\--------------------------------

The door creaked slightly as it swung shut behind her. Beau winced at having broken the quiet, hastily opened her mouth to apologize, but then—

Yasha turned around.

Framed just so in the soft summer light, the sun through the trees left a halo in her hair.

Beau swallowed.

 _Control_ , she thought. She was really going to have to look up some breathing exercises.

Yasha was sitting on the porch stairs, still in her pajamas, which just barely fit. One of her eyebrows rose slightly.

“Is, ah…is everything alright?”

Beau snapped back to reality.

“Yeah!” she yelped, a little louder than she’d intended. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

Yasha nodded, seemingly unfazed. Or maybe she’d just assumed that humans were just weird.

Either way, she gestured vaguely at the steps beside her, inviting Beau to join.

Beau did. Her bare feet pattered across the smooth wood.

“Enjoying the view?” she managed as she sat. “It’s pretty out here in the mornings, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Yasha hummed, and leaned back against the porch. Her gaze drifted out to a point far past the trees. “It is so peaceful, down here. I always forget how wonderful the Earth can be.”

“You’ve come around before?” Beau blinked. “I sort of assumed that this was your first time.”

Yasha chuckled. She shook her head. “I do feel out of place now, I admit. But I have made many trips before. I am one of the few angels who can, and those patrols are just a small part of my mission to protect this world. However, this must be my first visit in a while. The, er, the Earth I remember is much simpler.”

Beau mulled this over. A particular detail screamed for attention.

“Wait, one of the _few_?” she repeated. “You mean…most angels can’t?”

“No.” Yasha nodded. “It is strictly forbidden. The earth, and its people…it can corrupt us. To be permitted to descend, you must have an extraordinary will. Lest you fall into temptation.”

“Temptation?”

“Indeed. There is great power to be gained by cavorting with mortals. And the more it is done, the more you will inevitably desire that power. That is why, er...interaction is discouraged…”

She trailed off awkwardly, like she’d just remembered where she was sitting. Her gaze immediately fell to the ground.

Beau’s mouth was open before she even knew what to say.

“Hey, now,” she blurted out, “hey, I mean...you said it yesterday yourself, right?! This isn’t some kind of crazy deal, and you’re not getting anything out of it. If anything, right, if anything, from what I remember ‘bout you guys, angels are all about enforcing _good_ , right? You’re supposed to protect and care for us?” She waved her arms around, like that would help. “So really, right, _really,_ I think that’s all you’re doing. It’s not like you’re chilling here because you _wanna_ be. And, like you said, I mean…I’m just lending a hand. And you’re actively _trying_ to go home in a way that causes the least interference possible.”

Beau forced her body to be still. She looked Yasha in the eye.

“You came down here to fulfill a mission, right? Find Iothia, do your business, then leave. That’s all. There _can’t_ be any harm, yeah?”

Her words floated free, spun light through the air.

And maybe the logic wasn’t _completely_ sound, maybe her argument had a _few_ flaws, but in this moment, on this bright summer noon, sitting together in the warmth of the sun…

Well, it was more than enough.

“Thank you, Beauregard.”

She grinned.

“Hey, no problem. And—well, I came out here for a reason. Fjord’s done cooking breakfast, now. I bet you can smell it from out here, right?”

Yasha took a slow, deep breath.

“Oh. Yes,” she murmured, “yes. It smells wonderful.”

Beau grinned, stood up.

She stretched out a hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go before Jester eats it all.”

\--------------------------------

Nott’s fork clattered against her plate as she alien-abduction-style demolished the last of her eggs. “God, I am _so_ glad we went shopping! I was kind of getting sick of fish.”

“Dang, I hope not,” Fjord said, his elbows against the breakfast table. “I still have a few more recipes. I even got lemon and dill from the Barn.”

“I mean, now that we’ve had a break, I’d be alright with having that for dinner!” Jester dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “But, I’m not sure if we have time to catch anything if we’re heading back to the library.”

Beau guiltily drank some milk. Yasha looked similarly ashamed.

Strangely enough, it was Caleb who came to their rescue.

“Actually,” he said, tapping his most recent book, “I was actually thinking of doing today’s research alone.”

All of them glanced up. A number faces—Fjord and Jester—looked relieved.

But Beau frowned. She set her fork down. “Wait, why?” she demanded. “We not good enough for you, or something?”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “I thought you _hated_ libraries.”

“Well, yeah, I mean... _yeah_ , but—” She gestured pointedly at Yasha. The angel glanced up. She’d spent the last few minutes absolutely entranced by the concept of tomatoes.

“I _promised_ that I’d help,” Beau continued. “I’d feel bad, you know...not doing anything.”

Nott’s other brow went up. “ _You’d_ feel bad?”

Beau stuck out her tongue. There was some cilantro stuck in her teeth.

“Please,” Yasha sighed, turning to Beau, “please, if you would rather not, I would really understand. I have learned that humans require many breaks. To rest and sleep and consume pring-gles. I would not mind if this effort took longer.”

“But I thought you said this was _urgent_ ,” said Fjord.

“Well…okay, yes,” Yasha admitted, “the feeling of necessity has not lessened at all. But, like I said yesterday, it is better to be careful about this. I do not want to get lost, and I do not want to waste your time by accidentally checking places that are wrong. As long as you will have me, I am willing to wait.”

“Okay, that is…that is actually quite good,” Caleb said. “It, ah…this effort is going to take _time,_ Yasha. We do not have much to go on, and it will not be an easy task.”

Beau leaned across the table. She jabbed her fork at him accusingly.

“You don’t really sound _upset_ ,” she pointed out. “What’s up?”

Caleb shrugged. But his eyes had taken on a strange glimmer.

“I am just thinking that this will be a large undertaking,” he said. “I will need to read… _very_ much.”

It was the manic gleam of a scholar taking flight. Caleb’s voice trembled with excitement.

Jester reached for a corn chip. She munched on it introspectively.

“And you’re _sure_ that you don’t want any help? You _really_ want to do this alone?”

He met her eyes.

“I am going to be honest, my friend. The rest of you will just slow me down.”

“If that’s the case,” Nott gave a nod, “I can keep refining my technique! I’ll get my crossbow after we eat. Those wet bastards won’t know what’s coming.”

Fjord’s posture sagged slightly. “Nott,” he began delicately, “now, I know you’re just tryin’ to help, but using arrows to catch a fish _really_ is more of a…a hindrance, than anything.”

Nott scowled, and opened her mouth, and as the verbal sparring match began, Beau turned towards the others.

“I’m still gonna go,” she said. “I’m not ready to give up.”

“Aw, but don’t you wanna hang _out_ with us?” Jester pouted with expert precision. “Come on, it’s a _vacation_! Er…not that we aren’t happy to help you,” she added, glancing at Yasha.

The angel shrugged. “I understand. And I do not want to be a burden.”

“I’ve got some leads I can follow up on,” Beau said, tilting her chair back. “Don’t worry. You three,” she waved a hand, also encompassing Nott and Fjord, “y’all should introduce Yasha to fishing. I’m sure she’ll be good at it.”

“That sounds like fun,” Yasha said helpfully. “Er…I think. I have never tried.”

“Oh, it’s the _best_ ,” Nott agreed. “I’m great at it too.”

“She shoots the water from the riverbank,” Fjord muttered. “ _I’m_ the one who catches everything.”

Nott flipped him off. In the interim, Yasha blinked at Beau.

“And you are sure that you will not stay? I do not want you to force yourself for me.”

 _Temptation_ , Beau remembered. _Does it go both ways?_

“I will be fine on my own,” Caleb added, one last time for emphasis. “Really. This is something that I happen to enjoy. Though, ah…I believe I will require a ride to school.”

Beau set her fork down. She crossed her arms.

“Then it’s decided,” she declared. “I’ll drive the unlicensed foreign bastard. And I’m staying to do research, too. And, Fjord?”

“Yeah?”

Her palm slapped against the tabletop.

“I’ll need your car keys.”

\--------------------------------

“...and that’s trout,” Jester finished, pointing at the final sketch in the journal. “Fjord caught that one just two nights ago! It was probably only a couple hours before you...well, landed.”

Yasha peered intently at the book.

“Wow,” she murmured, tracing the lines of pencil with her eyes. “That is…it is beautiful, Jester. You are an amazing artist.”

Jester beamed, and tapped the page. “Aw, I just have a ton of practice. I didn’t go out much when I was little, so I mostly stayed home and drawed. Er...drew.”

Behind them, Fjord sank back into his chair, a fishing pole hanging loosely in his grasp. A few feet away, at the edge of the riverbank, Nott had yanked on a pair of rubber boots and was currently lurking along the shore.

Even for such a short woman, her ferocity was unparalleled. It was someone had taken fury and compressed it down like a diamond.

Her eyes scanned through the murky waters. Yasha gingerly turned another page.

“Why did you not go outside?” she asked. “Was it not nice, where you lived?”

“Oh, no,” Jester shook her head. “No, it was a beautiful city. A giant one, too, right along the coast, always crowded and full of people and all kinds of interesting stuff. And me and my momma lived right in the promenade, in a really famous house. But, um…she didn’t like leaving, much. And because of her, her job, it was better that I stayed in, too.”

She watched Yasha carefully for a reaction.

But the angel just nodded. She gave a small shrug.

“I understand jobs,” she said. “I have a job. That is why I am here.”

“Really?” Jester cocked her head. “Are you like a heaven-liaison?”

“I have no idea what that means,” Yasha said. “No, er, I am a soldier.”

She hesitated.

“ _Was_ a soldier. But then the war ended. So I was told to do something else.”

“Which was?” Jester asked. Nott slammed the trigger, then swore when she missed.

Yasha glanced up from Jester’s sketchbook. The heavy pages rustled in the breeze.

“I was assigned to patrol the earth,” she said. “When our enemies were defeated, even though they had been banished, they could still crawl up into your world. So the most trusted warriors were sent down to guard it. The, ah...the last instructions I remember getting were to come down here for a regular check. But…”

Her forehead wrinkled. She bit her lip in concentration.

“That is…that is odd,” she murmured.

Jester blinked. “What is? What’s wrong?”

Yasha scratched the back of her neck. “Well, er…well…I _must_ have finished the job, and then gone back to my home. But I cannot seem to…I do not remember…what did I do next?”

Her brow furrowed.

“What _did_ I do, after that? I cannot…I cannot recall…”

She trailed off, looking distressed.

Jester immediately leapt from her tree stump and crouched right next to Yasha. She quickly flipped her journal to a new page, and shoved a pencil into Yasha’s hand.

“Draw me.”

The angel’s head jerked up.

“W—what?”

“Draw me!” Jester repeated. She threw her hands into the air and kicked her leg off to the side. “Come on, come on, I’ll pose for you! I bet I’ll make a great model, and I _super-_ bet that you’re a great artist! You’ve been alive for so long! Come on, show me what you got!”

“I, er, actually, I have never drawn before.” Yasha sounded absolutely perplexed. “I am not…I am not sure how—”

Jester gasped, and Yasha leaned back. Behind them, Nott scared away some more fish. Fjord was looking more exasperated by the second.

“You’ve _never_ drawn before?!”

“Yes. Er...wait, no. I think no. Or maybe it _is_ ‘yes’?” Yasha smiled hastily. “I, ah, I have never drawn before.”

“But...but...but...it’s so fun!” Jester waved her arms around. “I can’t _believe_ it, Yasha, I can’t believe it! Drawing is the very best thing in the world.”

“Oh, well, flying is not so bad.”

Jester rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure, but I was talking for the _rest_ of us. Us non-magic people. For us, drawing is…drawing is an expression of freedom and creativity in an all-too orderly and restrictive world!” This sounded like a quote. Not that Yasha would have realized. “Alright, alright, now you’ve _gotta_ try. And don’t worry about messing up. Art isn’t about that! It’s about having _fun_.”

Yasha looked down nervously at her pencil.

“You can do it!” Jester said encouragingly. “Come on, I believe in you.”

And so, like a child, like a _very_ bewildered child, like a child who’d just been handed a modular ripple control receiver and told to build a radio, Yasha very, very, _very_ gingerly, pressed her pencil-tip to the page.

\--------------------------------

“—better to do! I mean seriously, it’s summer! It’s fucking _summer_ , they should be hanging out with their friends, spending every day getting shitfaced in the woods! That’s what _I’d_ be doing, anyways.”

“You _could_ be doing that, but you volunteered to come here. Which again, I will insist, is unnecessary.”

Beau and Caleb had left the car in the parking lot and were currently hiking up the hill to the library. Milling all about them were crowds of other students, studying or working away their summer term.

“And anyways, I was also planning to come back here and do research,” Caleb added as he trailed after Beau. “After our week in the forest was over, I was just going to come right back here. My scholarship will not last forever, you know.”

“Yeah, and my education’s already long _enough_.” Beau kicked a pebble out of her path. “There’s really no point in getting a degree, especially not if my _parents_ are paying for it. Er,” she added hastily, remembering who she was talking to, “er...sorry, Caleb. I didn’t mean—”

“ _Nein_ , no,” he shook his head, “I understand. Different battles for everyone. You should really look into vocational school. Or maybe you could be a bouncer.”

“Ha! Yeah, now _that_ sounds like fun.” She folded her arms to make her biceps pop. “Can you imagine how _awesome_ that’d be? Then martial arts would really come in handy.”

“I still cannot believe your parents forced you into that, then expected you to be calm.”

Beau snorted. “Actually, that was the part that pissed me off. Sabonim kept trying to get me to meditate and shit, but all I wanted to do was punch—”

Her eyes suddenly went wide. She swore loudly, and ducked behind Caleb.

“Quick, quick,” she hissed, “hide me! Don’t let him s—aw… _fuck_.”

Caleb turned just in time to see a pale man heading directly for them, bowtie askew and khakis billowing in the wind.

It took Caleb a moment to realize who this was, based on vague knowledge from many months of ranting.

Counselor Zeenoth, the bane of Beau’s existence.

He very dutifully stepped in front of his friend as the threat drew closer.

“ _Guten morgen_ ,” he began with intent, the second Zeenoth was in earshot, “ _wie geht es Ihnen heute? Ich bin kr_ —”

The man shoved past him with surprising intensity, his gaze fixed solely on Beau.

“Beauregard!” he panted, coming to a halt just beside her. “Beaure—Miss Lionett, I’ve…I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you.”

Too close now to reasonably run, Beau decided to plead innocence.

“What? Me?” She batted her eyes, “Why, I didn’t know at all.”

“I sent you nineteen emails.”

Her patience cracked.

“Yeah, well, I don’t check my fucking email. It’s just random trash and spam.”

“It is important communications from the school!” Zeenoth straightened up. “Your father—”

Her thumb was pressed into his chest in a second, wielded just like a blade to the throat. “I don’t give a _damn_ about that,” she spat, “so don’t even start with me, there. The only reason I’m even still _in_ this fucking place is because I happen to like some of the people. Well, obviously not you. If I could avoid you forever, I would.”

He coughed, and took a step back. Beau’s thumb followed him menacingly.

“Yes, well, I appreciate your candor, Miss Lionett, but I am certain that the company you keep—”

“ _Ja_ , hallo, that would be me.”

Zeenoth paused.

He turned around.

The energy on the sidewalk shifted almost instantly.

He stared at Caleb.

“Y… _you_?”

Caleb nodded. “Er… _ja_ , like I said. Hello, my name is C—”

“You look a bit old to be a student.” Zeenoth scanned him up and down. “How old are you? Why are you here?”

“Oh, well…I am twenty-eight,” Caleb said, a little thrown by this line of questioning. “And I _am_ matriculated, I am pursuing my master’s, currently, though I should like to receive my PhD before…er…”

He trailed off, because of Zeenoth’s expression. The counselor now wore the wild, dazed expression of a man who had just stumbled across an angel. (Take it from Beau and Caleb. At this point, they knew it well.)

“What is your field of study?” Zeenoth breathed, as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Something respectable? Something intensive?”

“That is…a subjective question,” Caleb murmured carefully, as if he feared further breaking the man, “though I am studying theoretical physics—”

Zeenoth made an incredible sound. His shoulders began to vibrate. Beau stared at his face and—that expression, that the eyes were the windows to the soul—she watched, though his pupils, her counselor basically transcend.

“Dude, are you…alright? You look like, well… _jesus_ , dude.”

Zeenoth just nodded along dreamily. He reached out, as if to take Beau by the hand, but regained his senses just quickly enough to not be killed.

“I’m just…I’m very proud of you,” he said instead. “This is a good friend, Miss Lionett, and I’m _sure_ that he will be a positive influence. It’ll surely make my job less difficult. What did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” said Caleb. He was starting to get annoyed—the library was so close he could _taste_ it.

Zeenoth was in too good spirits to care. He gave the both of them a cheerful nod.

“Well, anyways, Miss Lionett, back to the reason why I was looking for you. We need to schedule a counseling appointment and properly discuss your career goals. You are also still behind your peers in terms of making up credits, your father mentioned—”

Beau’s eyes narrowed. Her thumb slowly rose once more.

“Think _carefully_ about your next words. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you know what’ll happen.”

Zeenoth hesitated.

There was a Lionett awaiting his results. But there was a Lion standing in front of him now, teeth bared and patience razor-thin.

He weighed his odds.

“Very...very well,” he said, after a moment. “There _is_ one more thing, though.”

Beau groaned. “Of _course_ there is.”

“Please,” Zeenoth sighed, “just hear me out. This is not anything that requires you to act. I just wanted to let you know that a member of the faculty has expressed interest in you. They are the History Department Head—”

Beau gave another annoyed moan. “Aw, come on, that sounds _boring_ as shit—”

“ _—and_ the coach of the Mixed-Martial Arts Club.” Zeenoth crossed his arms. “That is the reason they expressed interest in you. She saw that you have some experience, and would like to speak to you. About joining the team, next fall.”

For a split-second, Beau’s irritation faded. “Wait, we have an _MMA_ club? I thought this school was too stuffy for that.”

“Yes, well, if you checked your emails—”

Beau waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, alright. Maybe… _maybe_ I’ll check it out. If I have the time.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ll probably explode, Zeenoth, but I’m doing research now. Working on a project. It’s educational.”

She gave her counselor a calculated glare.

“Tell my dad to fuck off, too. I know you’re doing this as a favor to him, but you don’t owe that man _shit_.”

The answer was a soft grin.

“Your family helped sponsor my education, Miss Lionett. I think you’ll find that I actually owe him a great deal.”

Beau shrugged. She turned around.

“Sure, man, whatever. See you around. But…probably not.”

“I’ll forward you their information!” he called as she and Caleb resumed marching up the hill. “They are away this week for a conference, but should return—”

The rest was drowned out by a campus tour plodding past. Caleb gave Beau a rather weak smile.

“I get the feeling that he means well, Beau. I really do think that he genuinely cares.”

She grunted. “Yeah, he cares about what my _dad_ thinks. Did you know that the two of them still meet up? I watched the old man lick everyone’s boot for so long, I can’t _stand_ to see other people do it. And I can’t _believe_ he has the nerve to send his lackey after me, after what he...what he _said_ …”

“What he said?” Caleb blinked. “He…Beau, did something happen?”

She scowled almost immediately. “Yeah, no, nevermind.”

She pointed up the hill.

“Come on. Let’s go. We’ve got an angel to help, or whatever.”

\--------------------------------

“Oooh, okay, okay, now do this tree!”

“Which tree?”

“This—no, no, this one! Yeah, just like that. And I’ll stand right in front of it, right here, and I’ll put my leg up like this, and now you draw my pose next to it.”

“Jester, ah…I am not sure I am good enough to d—”

“No! Don’t ever say that! Your art is _beautiful_ , Yasha, and you should be proud!”

\--------------------------------

An hour into the mind-boggling boredom of staring down glossaries and indices, Beau decided to take a break.

She shoved the thick stacks of tomes aside, and pulled her laptop out of her backpack.

It took a minute to boot up, but instantly connected to the Wi-Fi.

Her fingers slid across the track pad. She clicked open the search bar and slowly, suspiciously, began to type:

_aura. definition._

\--------------------------------

After inevitably getting splashed by a fish that did not want to die, Nott scrambled back from the muddy shore and quickly took refuge on a wooden lounge chair. Now she was sipping something terrible from her flask, and Jester, having grown bored of modelling, gave Yasha free reign of her sketchbook and skipped over to Fjord to harass him instead.

The pair of them were talking now, voices lost with the babbling current.

Behind them, sat Yasha and Nott.

“Have _you_ ever done drawing before?” Yasha asked her new riverside companion. “This is…I do quite enjoy it.”

“Nah, drawing was never my thing,” Nott lowered her sunglasses. “I was more into, y’know, other kinds of arts and crafts.”

“Oh. I do not.”

Yasha added another long stroke; Nott had a lot of hair.

“Knitting,” Nott clarified. “Embroidery. I like to collect stuff too, and sometimes I make necklaces out of it.”

“Really?” Yasha glanced up, impressed. “Did you also make that one? The one you are wearing now, with the buttons?”

For a moment, the warmth of the afternoon faltered. Nott’s expression flickered.

“No, uh…no, actually. My…son made this one for me.”

Yasha put her pencil down. “Son?” she echoed. “You…ah. You mentioned before, you have a child. Yes.”

Nott raised her flask once more. It glittered gently in the sunlight.

“Yeah. He’s a wonderful boy.”

“It sounds like you love him very much. Why is he not with you? Is he already grown?”

Nott slowly unscrewed the cap. “No. No, he’s actually just a little over two years old.”

“Oh.” The sound of draining liquid. “Is he…does he live in the town?”

Nott’s wrist ran across her mouth. “No, he lives back home. With his dad. My husband, Yeza.”

“You are married?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think my _kid_ came from?”

“Er…” Yasha hesitated. “Well, er…I personally have never actually tried it—”

Nott quickly waved for her to stop. The angel did, looking relieved.

“I was just curious,” Yasha mumbled. “Jester told me that she also left her home. But I did not know humans did that. You stayed in family groups, from what I remember. You know, for safety purposes.”

Nott sighed. She leaned back in her chair.

“Sometimes, things happen.” She adjusted her sunglasses. “Sometimes you’re forced to make decisions. And sometimes, you have to decide to leave people behind.”

She fell silent, for a moment. The sigh of the river ran on beside them.

Then:

“You’re an angel, you say you came from heaven. You’ve got wings, and I can’t just _not_ believe that. So…can you answer something for me?’

A pause.

“Er…I can try? It depends on the question, I suppose.”

Nott’s eyes were hidden, but her mouth had gone hard.

“When we pray for things. When we make wishes. When we…when we ask for help. Is anyone _actually_ listening? Or does it all just stay in our head?”

Yasha went quiet.

“Oh.”

“I’m just curious,” Nott added.

Yasha tried desperately to answer.

“I, er, I…am not sure, I never really…I was not told…”

She trailed off. Nott sighed, and shook her head.

“I guess it was a dumb question, huh?”

“It is not my department,” the angel sounded like she was pleading. “It is…I am sure that someone is responsible—"

Nott tilted her gaze up to the sun.

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Not anymore, not if kids get hurt.”

Yasha didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she could.

“His name is Luc,” Nott murmured. “Last name’s Brenatto. Just, uh…just in case.”

Yasha nodded resolutely.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. When I get home…I will find out. I promise this to you. We are not…we should not interfere, but—” she added, before Nott could interrupt, “—we _are_ supposed to be watching. It is my mission to protect the earth. There must be _someone_ who will know how to help.”

Nott closed her eyes. She reached for her flask.

“Good,” she nodded. “Because I’d just _love_ to speak to the manager.”

\--------------------------------

Caleb and Beau returned home that evening looking harried, looking haggard, and weighed down with books.

They dropped them onto the kitchen table as the smell of lemon filled the air.

“This is everything that I found that would be even marginally helpful,” Caleb said. “Including maps and books on mythology in every language I thought we could read.”

“He even found one in Sylvan,” Beau said, giving a roll of her eyes. “One of, like, six _total_ in the library.”

“I told you,” Caleb said. “It is a _real_ language. There is _real_ literature published on it.”

“He’s right you know. And it’s super pretty!” Jester flipped cheerfully through some of the pages. They were comprised almost entirely of dust.

A dead spider fell out of one. Jester very quickly shoved the book away.

“Oh, _yeurk_ , gross—”

Caleb wistfully and prodded the corpse. “If my cat were here, she would love this.”

“Oh, jesus, get that thing off the table!” Fjord called. “We’re gonna _eat_ there! That’s not sanitary, wipe it down with a cloth—"

“ _Verstanden, mama_.”

“Alright, look here—”

Yasha joined Beau in ferrying the books away to the cabin’s library-slash-office. A considerable amount of dust swirled in the air around them.

“So, how was your day?” Beau asked, as they plodded through the living room. “Remember anything interesting about why you’re down here?”

“Er…” Yasha immediately looked sheepish. “No, ah...sorry. I did not. Though I _did_ draw some fish.”

Beau considered this one.

“Jester?”

“Yes, Jester.” Then Yasha hummed softly. “Earth really _is_ a beautiful place. Things are always changing, down here. There are so many new things to discover. It is wonderful. It is so _alive_.”

Beau pushed back the study door. “Yeah, well…I guess it would suck if it wasn’t. Alive, I mean. It would be quiet, for sure.”

“I agree,” Yasha walked over to a desk. “And also, none of you would be here. I think…yes. That would be sad.”

Beau set her books down. She turned and looked at Yasha.

“Hey, uh…hey,” she said slowly. “Fjord has been telling me that I should be more sensitive. So I’m just gonna ask this, and if it’s rude, you can slap me.”

Yasha raised an eyebrow. She’d started doing that, lately.

“I do not think I would do that.”

“Just in case, alright?”

“Er…okay, then. And yes, ask your question.”

Beau inhaled. She closed her eyes.

“Do angels actually _feel_ things? You know, emotions and stuff? I mean, I definitely feel like I’ve seen you do it, but I was wonderin’ if it was anything like people. I mean, like the way that people do. With, like, glands and stuff. Is that…is that a dumb question?”

Yasha seemed genuinely taken aback.

It took her a good while to find an answer.

“Er. Well. Er…”

She thought about the question some more, then considered the last two days.

“I…I suppose it is, _maybe_ , a _little_ bit different? I mean…it is not…it is not something I have thought about, before. We do have glands when we take human forms, I suppose…that is true. And…and angels certainly _do_ feel. But…maybe not as freely as some of you—”

“Jester?”

“Yes, Jester.” Yasha paused. “And, actually, also Nott. But I think the intensity is not that important. Certainly, _I_ feel things. For example, the river today was warm. I felt enjoyment. And I liked it a lot.”

Beau snorted, but quickly caught herself.

“That’s, uh…most humans don’t say the sentence ‘I felt enjoyment,’ Yash.”

“Sorry.” To her credit, she _did_ look sorry. “I will definitely work on that.”

Beau shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll get practice. If this ‘Iothia’ hunt takes as long as Caleb thinks, then by the time you finally go home, you’ll probably be an expert on people.”

Yasha nodded. She considered Beau’s face.

“Actually you, ah…you remind me of us. They way you are…you act very straight.”

Beau stared choking.

“Ex— _excuse me_?”

“I—I just meant,” Yasha waved her hands quickly, “I just meant that you are very…stoic. Very even. You keep your feelings from coming through. That is very angelic, you know.”

Beau regained control of her lungs. She coughed one last time, just because she could.

“That’s, uh…thanks?”

“You are welcome,” Yasha said. “If not for your aura, you would seem like one of us.”

“Aw, shit, there it is again.”

“Shit?” Yasha blinked twice. “Why this time? What is the problem?”

“It’s just that _aura_ thing again.” Beau had to fight back a scowl. “Are you really not shitting me, there? That’s a real thing? A…a bunch of colors around my body, or whatever? What _is_ it, exactly? And do we _really_ all have it?”

“Yes,” Yasha nodded. “All humans do. Anything alive does. It is just, ah…it is just your energy. Life emits it in these sort of…waves. And it is not actually colors, it is more like living sensations—”

“Can I control it?”

She paused.

“Can you _what_?”

“Control it,” Beau repeated. “Is it something I can stop? Or change how it looks, or whatever?”

Yasha’s expression was now wholly bewildered. She blinked a few times, then frowned.

“But…but…why would you want to?”

“I’m just…just _wonderin’_ ,” Beau shrugged. “I mean, right, _I_ can’t see it, but it must be a pain in the ass for you. To have all these colors floatin’ around all the time, right?” she added hastily.

“Well, it is not _all_ the time,” Yasha said, “I have to actually look for it. And it is not inconvenient, it helps me understand what people are feeling. I have a, uh, a hard time with that, sometimes.”

Beau leaned back and crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, pro-tip from me. “People don’t always _want_ you to know. It’s a…it’s a human thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Thank god that angels were so easy to fool. Literally, Beau supposed.

“It’s rude,” she continued. “You should probably stop.”

Yasha looked grim. “I have already done it so much. I am sorry, for not knowing.”

“Hey,” said Beau, putting a hand on Yasha’s arm. “That’s alright, ‘cause now you do. So don’t sweat it, yeah?”

“I was not sweating before.”

“Not what I meant,” Beau pulled away. “Look, just…if you don’t know what someone’s feeling, it’s okay to _ask_ them _._ Usually, they’ll be happy to share.”

Beau could practically see Yasha taking furious mental notes.

“Thank you for letting me know, Beauregard.” She gave a solemn nod.

“Hey, no worries.”

Yasha nodded again.

“So how do _you_ feel?”

“Hungry,” Beau answered, before she could stop herself. “And a little tired, I think.”

“Oh, well, I actually did not mean right now. Though I suppose that is good to know.”

Yasha leaned against the polished desk. “I was actually wondering about a time before. On the night that we met. And we were standing in this very room—” she waved her hands around the office, “—leaning over many of your maps. And you turned to me, and there was a moment when everything went…soft. You looked at me, and your aura was so kind. How did you feel then?”

Beau swallowed.

She swallowed hard.

“That was…that emotion was, uh…it was ‘happy to help.’ Yeah. That’s how people get when they meet an angel and decide, for once, to be a good person.”

“Wow.” Yasha blinked. “That is…specific.”

Beau bit her tongue. She kept biting until she was sure she could taste blood.

“The rest of your friends, though, I did not get that same sensation. Is it different, for different people? Or is there another way to t—”

“Wait.” Beau suddenly cut her off, waving a hand towards the door. “I think I hear—yeah, I think I hear the others calling. I think it’s time to eat.”

Yasha glanced over her shoulder.

“Really? I, er, I did not—”

Beau pushed herself away from the desk. She headed for the door, without another word.

After a startled second, Yasha trailed after her.

Unspeaking. Beau didn’t need to be a divine being to sense that the angel was very confused.

They re-entered the kitchen just as Fjord was in the middle of trying to move a large skillet across the room, an effort made even harder by Nott who was stubbornly orbiting his path. Seated at the table, already surrounded by plates and bowls, Jester was being shown pictures of an orange tabby on Caleb’s phone.

“Oh, you’re back,” said Fjord, maneuvering around Nott and the rest of their friends. “Great timing, I just finished. If we grab drinks from the kitchen, we can start—no, gods, _no,_ Nott, seriously, it tastes _fine_ —"

\--------------------------------

“We need a new strategy,” Caleb said, as silverware clinked noisily all around him. “I am starting to think that the old plan of reading until my eyes bleed…it won’t work.”

“But you were so gung-ho this morning.” Fjord leaned his elbows across the table. “What happened to all that motivation?”

“Also, you made me check out so many books!” Beau angrily waved her fork. “Why didn’t you say anythin’ before? It would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

Caleb sighed. “I just _meant_ , that while we continue to follow the old plan, we also should start to branch out. We cannot just rely on random page-turning. Not if we are going to get anywhere. Yasha,” he turned to face the angel. “To help you, we need more information. Is there anything, _anything_ you can think of, that will give us any kind of guidance?”

Yasha’s face went all scrunchy as she wracked her brain. “Er…I mean…the story has not _changed_ since landing—”

“How about we show you a map?” Jester suggested, spearing a piece of broccoli as she did. “Maybe you could just point out where you remember, ignoring their names, to tell us where you’ve been?”

“That’s a great idea!” Nott grinned. “Good detective work, Jessie.”

Beau lowered her fork. “Yasha, you do at least recognize the continents, right? I feel like you mentioned it once before. Back…back when we were in the, uh, the study together.”

She swallowed. But Yasha, oblivious as always, gave a nod.

“That is true,” she murmured. “I…I suppose I could give it a try.”

Jester immediately leapt from her chair. “Hang on, then! I’ll be right back.”

She scrambled off, and there was a moment’s pause, filled with the sound of muffled chewing and the slow-settled cooling of the kitchenette’s stove.

Then she returned. She brushed a bunch of their plates aside and slapped a map onto the table.

“Okay, go for it! What do you remember?”

Yasha carefully considered the map. Everyone craned their necks to watch.

Eventually, she stretched out a finger.

“I have been, er…I have been here,” she said, pointing vaguely at the Middle-East. “And I think somewhere…here. And here, and…also there…”

The gang diligently followed her hand. They logged additional angel-landings in Southern India, Northern Europe, Eastern Canada, a few random points in the Pacific Ocean, and three touchdowns in the middle of the Amazon.

“Though, I was not on land for very long,” Yasha added. “I started flying soon after. It was my job to patrol, not stay grounded. I have passed over many areas. Though, ah, this place—” she gestured to Northern Africa, “—I have been meaning to let you know. Your maps are very good, but this place is very incorrect. It should be green. There are many lush forests and tall trees.”

There was a moment’s pause. They chewed their fish.

“Er…Yasha,” Fjord said kindly, eventually, “that’s, uh…that’s a desert.”

Nott nodded. “It’s practically _famous_ for being desert.”

“What?” the angel frowned and leaned back. “That…but that cannot be. I remember. I was _there_. Recently, even.”

They all exchanged glances.

“You...were _there_?” Jester tried. “Really? You sure that it’s the same place you remember?”

“Yeah, uh...I mean no offense, but your track record isn’t _that_ great,” Fjord said.

Beau subtly leaned in towards Caleb.

“Hey,” she whispered. “That _was_ a thing though, right? I feel like I barely remember being taught that. Wasn’t it all green and nice at one point?”

“Well...yes,” Caleb murmured, “but that was a _very_ long time ago.”

“How long are we talking?”

He didn’t answer, instead just sat back in his chair. His gaze was now practically _glued_ on Yasha, a laser beam of analytical intent.

Not that she noticed. The angel was currently occupied with defending her mental capabilities from the onslaught of Nott and Jester.

“—after me: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.”

“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.”

“Sally sells seashells by the seashore.”

“Sally sells seashells by the seashore.”

“Betty bought a bit of butter, but the butter Betty bought was bitter. So Betty bought a better b—”

“Who _are_ these people?”

Nott shrugged. “They’re just kids’ rhymes. You know, to pass the time.”

“Me and my momma used to do them together all the time. Well, not these ones,” Jester amended, “we didn’t speak English at home, we spoke—”

Caleb cleared his throat. He gestured at the map.

“Yasha,” he said, “are you _absolutely_ certain that the desert was forested when you were there? And are you _absolutely certain_ that it is where you landed?”

“Yes.” She nodded firmly. “I know this. And I remember it very clearly. It was the first time I ever saw so much green. There is waving grass that stretches miles like a sea, and trees that rise far above the plains. There are flowers, too. I liked those flowers.”

Caleb’s eyebrows did a sort of macarena up to his hairline. Beau wasn’t entirely sure what this meant, but it couldn’t have been a good sign.

He leaned back. He crossed his arms.

“Well,” he murmured, “at least...at least this gives us a timeline on—well, on you, Yasha. You said that you were there _recently_ , yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Quite recently.”

“ _How_ recently?” Beau asked. “Maybe there’s an explanation. What’s ‘recent’ to an immortal?”

Yasha scratched the top of her head. “Er...I am not entirely certain,” she admitted. “I do not usually pay attention to dates. But, probably… _probably,_ at most, a decade ago. Maybe two. No more than that.”

The table fell silent. All eyes turned to Caleb.

“Oh,” he said.

“Oh?” Yasha frowned. “Why ‘oh?’ What is wrong now?”

Caleb set his fork onto the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes.

“Yasha, you are not technically wrong. The Sahara _used_ to be an oasis, that is true. But that was also over six thousand years ago.”

Yasha stared at him.

A moment passed.

“ _What_?”

“ _Ja,_ ” Caleb sighed. “That is…the Earth you remember is out of date by at least six thousand years. If you are _really_ sure about the maps, and _bitte_ , I mean _really_ sure, then you are missing _a lot_ of time, Yasha.”

“But that…that…it cannot…I _remember_ being there,” she muttered. “It was like yesterday. It was a _regular_ patrol.”

“Okay, so what happened after?” Beau suggested. “Did you go back? Or did you stay down here?”

“Of course I returned,” Yasha sounded affronted. “I do every time, to give my report. And then I fly down again. The cycle repeats.”

“Then how many times did you do that?” Fjord tried. “Enough to take up six _thousand_ years?”

Yasha sagged slightly in her chair. “Well...no. I mean...no.” Her gaze dropped to the tabletop. “I…it cannot have been more than ten or twenty…”

At the fading of her voice, Jester sat up.

“Hey, hey, maybe this is a good thing!” she tried, her voice just a tad too bright. “After all, right, this means we _know_ what we’re looking for, right? Or, at least, we’ve got a better idea! If Yasha is, um, if she’s missing the last six thousand years, then maybe we shouldn’t bother looking at anything that happened after then. Maybe ‘Iothia’ is something _super_ old, and we should be looking specifically at that time. That’s _gotta_ narrow our search down, right?”

Caleb retrieved his fork. He considered this a moment.

“That _does_ cut out a lot,” he admitted. “And it gives me a few more ideas on where to look. Many major religions are _much_ younger than six thousand. So it should make the search much easier.”

He gave a nod to Jester, then Yasha. “This is good. It helps a great deal. However—” he added, and his friends began to groan, “— _however_ , it also makes our search harder. If we are going to investigate something that old, it is inevitable that we will have very little to go off of. We are going to need an expert.”

“An expert?” Beau crossed her arms. “Like a priest?”

“Priest, scholar, anything will do. I admit, I have limited options,” Caleb shrugged. “I am not a student of religion. The only contact I can think of is Professor Yennen, though I think he is away on sabbatical.”

He raised an eyebrow at the rest. “Any suggestions?” he asked.

“I’ll ask the Traveler,” Jester said dutifully. “He might be listening. And this sounds like something right up his alley.”

“Religion’s not my thing,” Nott said. “Sorry. Chemistry, though, _chemistry_ ’s good.”

“Yeah, and I’d suggest my old pastor, but I’m pretty sure that guy hates my guts.” Beau tilted back in her chair. “Other than that, I’m out. Sorry.”

“ _Nein_ , no I understand. But if that is the case, I suppose—”

Fjord very nervously cleared his throat.

All of them turned to stare.

“Okay,” he said, “okay, uh, this is a long shot. But I think I might have…I might have _something_?”

Caleb nodded encouragingly. “That is fine, still let us have it. One thing is better than no things, _ja_?”

“It’s a _real_ long shot,” Fjord said. “I really gotta stress that. It might not be worth it.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short!” Jester said. “You never know, it could be our breakthrough.”

Fjord scratched his nose. “Okay. O—okay. This kind of sounds a bit dumb, but we _might_ be able to ask my old roommate. Do you guys remember him?” He made a vague gesture, like he was miming having long hair. “Freaky-tall guy, a living beanpole? Lots of pink. He also had a nose-ring, for a—”

“Caddy?!” Jester shot up, ecstatic. “Oh my _god,_ are you still talking to him? How’s he doing? Is he still around?”

“Shit, you still have _contact_ with that dude?” Beau whistled. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Yasha leaned in, very puzzled, towards Nott. “Who is this ‘Caddy’? A friend of yours?”

Nott shrugged. “Actually, no clue.”

“Yeah, no, he was before your time.” Fjord nodded to Nott and Caleb. “He was my roommate, freshman year. But he disappeared halfway through, sayin’ something about goin’ back home. Not that he was around much, to begin with.”

“He was probably getting _blitzed_ outta his mind,” Beau grinned approvingly. “Man, he was weird, but I _loved_ that guy.”

Fjord shifted, slightly uncomfortably. “We never confirmed that,” he said. “But, uh…yeah. He was really nice. And…outrageously calm. But I’m suggesting him because I think I remember him saying that he lived in a church. Or something. It was attached to a graveyard, anyway. I have his landline, he gave it to me before he left. Maybe it’s possible that he’ll know something? He said his family was religious.”

“Okay, but _which_ religion?” Nott asked. “The way you describe him, it sounds like _scientology_.”

“No, no, no, it was, uh…it was like…earthy.” Fjord tried to describe that which he definitely didn’t understand. “It was all about, like, I think it was about embracing nature, and stuff. And, uh, and honoring the dead? I don’t _really_ know, I didn’t pay that much attention, but Caduceus made it seem like a really _ancient_ bunch of tenants and stuff.”

“Ten- _ets_ ,” Caleb said mildly.

“Sure, yeah, that. Anyways, to be perfectly honest, it felt less like a religion and more like a kind of…vibe.”

“Vibe?” Nott echoed.

“He was a real hippie,” Beau clarified. “I only met him like...the once.”

“He was _really_ nice,” Jester said. “I liked his hair. And his shirts.”

“Look,” Fjord pinched his nose, “look, I mean…Caduceus is weird. Like… _really_ weird. But if, um, if you think we’re that desperate…I _guess_ I could give him a call?”

Caleb thought about this for a moment. Then he sighed, and gave a shrug.

“ _Ja_ , okay, why not, I suppose. We might as well. It is not as if we have other options.”

“Sorry, again,” said Yasha, a standard phrase.

“Don’t be,” insisted Beau, also standard. “Fjord, you _gotta_ hit him up! It’s been too long! I wanna know what he’s been _up_ to.”

“Me too!” Jester agreed. “Oh, I hope his hair is still pink.”

“I’ll have to see if he’s still in the area,” Fjord said. “I, uh, I can’t remember where he said he lived. After dinner, I’ll give him a call.”

“You were a shitty roommate huh?” Nott laid her chin against her palm. “I know where _mine_ is from.”

Fjord scowled. “ _Your_ house-mate is Caleb. Anyway, I bet you can’t name what _city_ he’s from.”

“Actually, we moved around a lot—”

Fjord sighed. “It’s no fun if _you_ answer.”

“ _Entschuldigung._ ” Caleb speared some broccoli. “But, yes, back to the point. Thank you for volunteering this, Fjord. I can be hopeful that it will help.”

“And even not,” Jester giggled, “oh man, you guys will _love_ this guy! He’s really funny, and relaxed. From what I remember.”

“Yeah, probably ‘cause he was _stoned_ ,” Beau said. “Cad knew how to have a good _time_.”

“Again,” Fjord muttered, “I don’t know for sure—”

Nott took sip of water. “We used to mess around with chemicals. Me and Yeza, I mean.”

The table fell silent. Everyone stared.

Nott rolled her eyes. “Come on, _live_ a little.”

“I have…so many questions,” Fjord said. “I mean… _dang_.”

“What a rebel,” Beau added.

Nott just beamed. “I’m excited to meet this guy, now,” she said. “He seems like a ton of fun.”

“Yes, well, I am also excited, especially if he can help us in the search.” Caleb gave Yasha a very faint smile. “Do not worry. We will help you find your place. I promise this as a self-proclaimed bibliophile.”

“ _Ew_!” gasped Jester, “is that—”

Caleb groaned. “ _Scheisse,_ no, it does _not_ mean what you think—”

And as his explanation fell on deaf, snickering ears, Beauregard turned to grin at Yasha. A snarky comment poised to trip off her tongue, to reassure her of their coming success—

And then she saw the angel’s expression.

Yasha was silent amid the cheer and the clamor. She idly picked at her plate.

 _6,000 years,_ Beau suddenly remembered. The realization had hit _her_ like millennia forgotten, what must its weight be to Yasha?

How must she be feeling, right now?

And then another thought crept through. Sweet, insidious. Honey-thick.

 _Earlier, you lied to her_ , it said. _How could you have done that? How could you be so selfish? Think about what she’s been through. Think about how hard she’s trying. What kind of child are you?_

Yasha glanced up, feeling her gaze. One of her eyebrows rose slightly.

She’d been doing that more and more, lately.

She blinked at Beau. There was a little bit of broccoli in her teeth.

“Er…Beauregard? Is something the matter?”

 _I’m a liar_ , thought Beau. _God, I’m a liar_.

She cracked a feeble, wavering smile.

“Nah,” she said. “It’s, uh, it’s nothing. Nevermind. Just…just nothing.”

She looked away without another word.

And for the rest of that dinner, and then the rest of their night, not once did she let herself look again.

Why would she? Yasha didn’t deserve that.

Especially not coming from Beau.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this impromptu mid-week update, as I entered a fugue state last night and wrote this all in one go. The next chapter is a doozy, and hopefully will be up this Friday! (though no promises ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ). 
> 
> As always, if you liked this story, please consider leaving comments and kudos! The absolutely wonderful response I got to Chapter 4, and the sudden outpouring of hits, is what motivated me to upload another chapter so soon. And if you need to shout at me for how Ch. 5 ended, feel free [to drop by and visit me as @sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on tumblr. My inbox is always open!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	6. Souls on a Rainy Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring: a storm, a lore-drop, and a new friend, as well as my complete inability to write a chapter under 6k words

“So…here’s the thing,” said Fjord, that next morning, as he and Caleb stood by the bus stop. “I’m not actually sure if Caduceus is coming.”

“ _Was_? You think he will stand us up?”

Fjord leaned against the sign-pole. “No, no, that’s not it. He’s a real nice guy, and he sounded pretty excited over the phone. It’s just that he’s also, uh...he can be pretty absent, sometimes. And he’s not exactly tuned in with time.”

Caleb blinked. “ _Really_?” This was a foreign concept. “ _Vielleicht…_ perhaps he should wear a watch.”

“I think he did try that, but then he lost it. This is…well.” Fjord gave a sigh. “You’ll see, if he comes. Sorry for makin’ you wait here with me.”

Caleb shrugged. “It is fine, I brought a book with me.” But then he paused and glanced at the sky. During the drive over, the clouds looming over their heads had only gotten darker, greyer, more grim and menacing, and now there was also a heaviness to the air—as if the humidity were about to break.

He considered this.

“Though perhaps, ah…perhaps we should wait in the car.”

\--------------------------------

Nott flicked her pencil off the side of the table, then stared forlornly at the void it left behind.

“Alright, it’s official,” she muttered. “I’m bored.”

Jester dragged her finger down the index of an atlas. “Ugh, I know, me _too_ ,” she said. “How do you think Caleb and Beau _do_ it? I mean…research? _All_ the time? I’m glad to be helping Yasha, of course, and I really _do_ want to get her home, but…I thought that this would be more _exciting_.”

Nott nodded glumly. “I thought it would be more like…like... _detective_ work, or something. Like in the old movies, you know?” She threw her head back and crossed her arms. “And come on, let’s be real! This is the case of the century! Our client is angel who _fell from the sky_! Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard? We should be out there, in the field, trying to, to, to get _clues_ , or something! We should be breaking down doors and interrogating witnesses, not sitting here looking through dusty old books!”

“Technically, we already interrogated them,” Jester said. “Beau and Caleb are the witnesses, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Nott waved a hand, “but what about _before_ Yasha fell? I mean…what if another angel _pushed_ her?”

Jester frowned. “That doesn’t sound _angelic._ Do you really think that could’ve happened?”

“Maybe,” Nott shrugged. “You never know, right?”

“Mmm...true, but if we wanted to ask, we’d have to go to heaven, first.”

Nott’s shoulders slumped. “Oh yeah. Well, _anyways_ —" she cleared her throat, “I _still_ think we should be interrogating _someone._ There’s plenty of people in the forest, right? Maybe one of ‘em saw something. Or _maybe_ , one of them’s an angel in disguise.”

“Oh, _man_ , you think?”

“Maybe. Or—oh _shit_! What if they’re a _demon_?!”

“A demon!” Jester gasped. “Could that be?”

Nott scratched the back of her head. “I mean...it stands to _reason_ , right? Yasha _basically_ already told us that they exist, so where do you think they are, huh? And even if angels aren’t supposed to talk to us—”

“To interfere with mortals,” Jester recited.

“—right, that. But she never said anything about demons. Who _knows_? Maybe they’re all over the place, and we just never noticed.”

“Yikes,” said Jester. “That’s...scary. How do you think we’re supposed to tell?”

Nott’s opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. A few seconds later, Yasha entered the study, nervously balancing a wooden tray.

Actually, it was a cutting board. There were three mugs on it.

“I, ah, I did my best,” she said, carefully maneuvering over to the table and brushing some books aside to make room. “Nott, I followed your instructions as best I could, but I am unsure if I…succeeded.”

The two shorter women peered over Yasha’s shoulder. They stared into three discrete pools of lumpy matter.

Steam fogged up their vision. Jester coughed.

“It is coffee,” Yasha supplied, in their silence. “It, ah...I think something went wrong.”

Nott very cautiously stuck her finger into a mug. 

The outside was hot. The center, completely cold.

“I did try very hard,” Yasha continued. “The machine…there were many buttons.”

Nott swirled the substance around. Yasha watched her with rapt attention.

“It’s…a little grainy,” Nott managed after a considerable while. Then she licked her finger and made an awful face. “Okay, okay, it’s a _lot_ grainy. And, uh… _extremely_ bitter.”

Jester carefully raised one of the mugs. “I mean…” she said, a woman of endless kindness, “it...it…it _could_ be worse.”

Yasha collapsed into the big revolving chair.

“I have failed you.” She put her head in her hands. “You all are helping me, and I have _failed_ you.”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that!” Nott hastily wiped the bean-juice off her hand. “Yasha, really, it’s not that bad.”

“It is _terrible_ ,” she moaned. “It is not even liquid.”

Jester took an experimental sip. She did a marvelous job of not vomiting.

“It’s…it’s…it’s _kind_ of liquid.”

“You hate it.”

Nott also inhaled a small amount. “I don’t—oh my god—I don’t _hate_ it,” she said. “It’s...I mean, okay, okay, you know…they say that coffee is all about the caffeine. And I think by, by…you know, by including entire coffee beans, you’ve definitely supplied us with lots of that.”

“Really?” she looked up. There was a terrible hope in her eyes.

“Absolutely!” Jester agreed. “It’ll _definitely_ get the job done. And that means we’ll have the energy to keep searching!”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “Just, uh, just out of curiosity, did you happen to… _taste_ this, beforehand?”

“Of course,” Yasha reached for the last mug. “I thought it was good.”

They watched her, in silence, down half the concoction. Nott could feel her taste buds wail.

“Wow,” said Jester. “That’s...wow.

“There is nothing so interesting in heaven,” Yasha agreed. “Truly the earth is an amazing place.”

They watched her take another sip.

Nott sat down. She seemed to be deep in thought. After a moment, her eyes took on a glitter and she pointed to the ceiling. “Hey, you know,” she said slowly, “maybe you should give some to Beau. I’m sure that she could use it.”

“Really?” Yasha raised an eyebrow. “But she said not to be bothered. I would not want to disrupt her…well, whatever she is doing.”

Jester set her mug down. “That’s okay!” she said brightly. “We can just wait for her to come back!” Then her smile took on a mischievous glint and quick as a whip, she pulled out her phone.

“In the meantime, I can teach you how a camera works. For later, in case you want to take a video.”

\--------------------------------

Beauregard swore, then threw a candle off the roof. It bounced once or twice against the eaves, then rolled past the gutter and disappeared from sight.

A distant crunch of gravel suggested that it had landed on the driveway.

“ _Arggghh_!” Beau collapsed back onto the tiles, cross-legged and enraged. The unscathed candles in a circle around her shivered in their wax.

None of them had been lit yet. Not that Beau was paying much attention.

Angrily, she shuffled around and loomed over her laptop. It was perched rather precariously on the chimney, Beauregard herself balanced atop the semi-flattened roof of their cabin.

It wasn’t so steep that she would fall immediately, but it certainly was no picnic.

The little Wi-Fi symbol on the bottom ribbon of her screen was currently flashing. There was barely one bar, flickering in and out of existence, that Beau was trying to steal from the park Visitor Center.

The computer itself was doing its best to display a website, the design of which was reminiscent of a con artist from the 1990s desperately trying to sell purifying salts to idiots.

Its heading, in purple cursive font, said:

⭐🔮🌙 _Learn to control your aura! Ten easy steps to unlocking your inner you!_ 🌙🔮⭐

Beauregard was currently on step two. It read:

_Now breathe in the scent of the candles. Let its calmness wash over you as you focus your mind. Open yourself up to what you do not know. The universe is a confusing place, but to understand the world around you, you must first know yourself._

“I _know_ myself already, you shitty website!” She screamed above the pines. “That’s not what I’m trying to _accomplish_.”

She threw another candle, for added effect. It soared off into the trees.

“Fucking _hell_ , this is _such_ a waste of time.”

She glared up at the sky and crossed her arms.

“Hello?” she demanded. “Anyone up there? You’re missing an angel, if you haven’t noticed. Come on and take her back.”

There was no response. Beau was not surprised. She even paused for a moment and scratched her head.

“Actually,” she muttered, half to herself, “I never _did_ get an answer from her. But from what I remember, it kind of sounds like you don’t even exist.”

Thick clouds drifted slowly across the grey sky. If Beau hadn’t already been sweaty from the climb up, she’d really be feeling the stickiness now.

Still, this was not a sufficient deterrent. She closed her laptop, stuck a box of candles over it, and laid down on the wooden tiles.

She closed her eyes.

“Alright, inner peace,” she grumbled to herself. “Come out, come out, wherever-the-fuck you are.”

\--------------------------------

“You know,” Caleb murmured, as Fjord fiddled with the air conditioning, “in all the time that we have been friends, I do not think I have ever sat in the front with you.”

The cooling fans began to whirr. Fjord glanced up, eyebrows arched in surprise.

“ _Really_? But I drive you guys everywhere. And I’ve known you almost two years.”

“ _Ja_ , and I appreciate that, by the way.”

He shrugged. “One day, _you_ can pay for gas.”

Caleb wisely did not respond. He directed his gaze out the window.

The two of them sat there in companionable silence a few moments longer, staring at the bus stop across the street. Four coaches had already gone by, stopped to release passengers, then vanished down the road.

So far, no sign of Caduceus Clay. Not that Caleb really knew what to look for.

“Maybe you should send him a message,” he suggested, as he watched Fjord mindlessly lock and unlock the doors. “Inquire if his bus is delayed. Perhaps the incoming weather was too much.”

Fjord crossed his arms. “I’d love to,” he said, sighing heavily for extra measure, “problem is—I don’t have his cell. And I don’t think he’s on any social media.”

“Oh. Er...perhaps we could send a pigeon, then.”

Fjord snorted. “Actually, he’d probably _love_ that. He’s a bit of a nature freak.”

“I had a cat as a child,” Caleb volunteered. “I was very fond of her.”

“No, no, this is different,” Fjord said. “Cad used to keep _giant beetles_ in our room. And I’m convinced he added worms to all the houseplants. That guy was a serious menace.”

“And you are inviting him to our _home_?”

Fjord grimaced. “ _You_ said we were desperate, didn’t you?”

Caleb sagged into his chair. “ _...ja,_ alright, fair enough. I really do hate to admit defeat, but it has already been two entire days. And we have absolutely no leads.”

“Again, the snail—”

“ _Bitte_ , please, enough about the snail. I never want to hear about snails again. I cannot believe that was the only trace we could find _anywhere_.”

“Maybe Cad will have something,” Fjord said. “Maybe now, it’s only a matter of time.”

Caleb sighed.

“ _Ja_ , but first, he must arrive.”

\--------------------------------

“Yasha?”

“Yes?”

Jester swung off the armchair.

“What was your childhood like?”

The angel paused. 

She put down her sandwich.

The three of them had now abandoned the office and shifted to the living room to eat lunch. The TV behind them was quietly playing some re-run of an old film noir, and there was a tray of ham sandwiches resting on the coffee table.

Jester had also made iced tea. Nott had filled a bowl with chips. Yasha had been gently banned from the kitchen.

“My...childhood?” Yasha asked.

“Yeah, you know. When you were a baby-angel. _Were_ you ever a baby angel?”

“Or did you just sort of burst from God fully-formed?” Nott said.

Yasha really gave this some thought. 

“Er...I do not think so,” she said, after a while. “No, that is not how angels...work. And there is not really a…a _God_ , at least not in the way that you all seem to think.”

Jester selected a corn chip.

“Okay.”

Nott whirled around. “ _Okay_?” she asked.

Jester took a bite. “This week has been _pretty_ crazy. If she says so, I believe it.”

Nott considered this. She sat back down.

“Yeah, alright. Alright. I _guess._ ” Then she raised an eyebrow. “So what _is_ there, then? And where _did_ you come from?” 

Yasha gazed thoughtfully at her sandwich. “That is also...complicated. But, I...I _suppose..._ the short answer is that I am from the Astral Sea.”

\--------------------------------

The heavy clouds crept over the horizon. Off, far, _far_ away in the distance, the softest whisper of rolling thunder.

Beau, still up on the roof, began to snore.

\--------------------------------

“...astral _what_?” Jester asked.

“Astral Sea,” Yasha repeated, and this time she really pronounced the Capital Letters. “It is the, ah...the force that gave everything life. It exists all around my home. Elysium. Or heaven, as you like to call it.”

“Is it _actually_ an ocean?” Nott sounded wary. “‘Cause if it is, I may need to start sinning.”

“Er...no. No, not really, there...there is no water in it, to start. It is just a name. It...you can think of it as waves of light, the waxing and waning essence of creation. It…” she sighed wistfully. “It used to be beautiful.”

“Used to be?” Jester echoed. “What happened?”

Yasha fell silent.

After a moment, she looked up.

Sensing a story, Jester and Nott squeezed in together on the couch. They grabbed the bowl of corn chips and balanced it between their knees.

Nott made a “go-on” gesture with her hands. Yasha nodded, and gave them both a small smile.

“The Earth happened,” she murmured. “Life, and your realm. And then the war that followed, soon after.”

\--------------------------------

“I hope he brought an umbrella,” Fjord sighed. “I’d hate for him to get caught in the rain.”

“We are not parked that far away,” Caleb said. “I am sure that he can just run.”

\--------------------------------

In the beginning, there was nothing. Just silence and emptiness, and simple non-existence, for the entire reach of eternity. But then, one day, as I am told, there suddenly came a brilliant spark. A single point of light, shining in the dark. Sometimes, I hear you speak of ‘higher powers.’ This may be what you refer to. I admit, _we_ never really gave that much thought. We just knew that it had made us, and we knew it made our home. It is the energy that sustained us, and the warmth that kept us whole.

When I think back, back, a long, long, _long_ time ago, Elysium was a beautiful place. It was a simple place. It was...pure. Back then, there was no such thing as night and day, no such thing as then and now, good or bad, right or wrong. There was just...eternity. An eternity, basking in the light. And physical constructs, this home, this sandwich, your bodies, the _world_ , things like that do not exist in my home. We do not even have corporeal forms. Not really. Everything that exists in Elysium is a...is a concept. Is an idea. It is built upon the beliefs and dreams of the universe, and before, all we had in the universe was light.

\--------------------------------

Fjord checked his watch. “It’s ten to two.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb said. “I already know.”

\--------------------------------

And then, it disappeared.

Er...actually, it is more accurate to say that it descended. It fell, and with it, also vanished the warmth and the light in the waves. We were…well. In that moment, we learned fear. We learned panic, and we learned desperation. Our spark was gone. What would we do? What would sustain us?

The answer came soon after. Below us, below our home, through the clear basin of the now-empty seas, there appeared a sudden flash. And then a rumble.

Clouds were rolling in beneath us.

It was strange. We had never seen clouds, before.

\--------------------------------

Beau turned over.

\--------------------------------

Fjord double-checked the windows. 

“Don’t want rain in the car,” he explained.

\--------------------------------

The storm lasted a very long time. And, of course, we were worried. We thought that this was it. And I am not ashamed to admit that many of us panicked. A few of us, confused, and lost, and hurt, decided to jump in.

 _“They did_ what _?!” Jester asked. “Oh my god, were they_ okay _?”_

_“Yes,” Yasha nodded. “And, in fact, they helped us learn something important—”_

—because beneath the storm, was a dark and endless sky. We knew that part already. But there was something else too, something small but growing, something so close, that we could reach out and touch it.

It was a hunk of rock. A ball of cooling lava and smoke. And, actually, there were many like it, scattered all throughout the space. Many of us spent quite a while exploring them all. But for some reason, we would always come back to yours. It was special. It was the closest one that we could see.

And, somehow, it felt...alive.

Very soon, we realized why. And we realized what had happened. You see, the light that had created us, that had loved us and kept us whole for so long, had suddenly created something new. And though we could not understand why, and though we did not really know how, we could feel, as we leaned over the edge of our world, that the light had _not_ vanished, as we had thought.

Rather, it was somewhere else. It was in _your_ world.

And in that moment, we knew we had to protect it.

\--------------------------------

The first drops of rain landed gently on the roof, missing Beau by inches.

\--------------------------------

Many years passed, after that. And now there _were_ years, because there was a sun, and a moon, and an Earth to live through them. And from up above, we watched. We watched through millennia, and millennia after that, we watched the ground grow still and the skies turn blue and we watched the oceans boil, then freeze, thaw, freeze again, and then we watched the air ravage the land, and the land rise up again from the sea.

We kept watching, for a very long time. We did not know what we were waiting for—

\--------------------------------

The twenty-sixth bus of the afternoon came by. Behind the steel-grey clouds above, the sun began its descent across the sky.

\--------------------------------

—but I still remember the day we found out. 

As your planet had been changing, so had Elysium. I told you earlier, that when we only had the light, that was _all_ we had. It was all we really knew. But as the years went on, things from your world began leaking into ours. Suddenly, we had clouds in the sky—we had a _sky_. We had our own sun, and we had grass, and we had trees, and we had sand on the beaches of the Astral Sea. And though the water was still gone, and there were no waves on this shore, every once in a while, from far, far beneath Elysium, there would be a faint shimmer. And the wind, when it blew the sand into the air...it was very pretty. Like a diamond breeze. 

I was there, watching the wind when it happened. The sand was glittering under the sun. I looked up, out into the distance, past the void where our ocean should have been, and suddenly, suddenly, something appeared.

It was not like the faint shimmering we had grown used to. It was a little tiny ball of light, glowing all by itself.

\--------------------------------

“This is bus twenty-eight,” Caleb muttered. “What are the chances that he has arrived?”

There was no response. He unpeeled his cheek from the window and looked over.

Fjord was asleep. His baseball cap covered his face, his breath had stretched into a slow snore.

Caleb whacked him on the chest, then dodged as Fjord jerked away.

“— _hskfd!_ ” 

Fjord paused. He dropped his arms.

“ _Guten morgen_ ,” Caleb said dryly, pointing out the window. “There is another bus here.”

Fjord pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt his heartbeat return to normal. 

“You could’ve been nicer,” he grumbled, reluctantly following Caleb’s gaze. “You scared a year off my life, man. Maybe two.”

“Apologies.” He did not sound sorry. “Is Caduceus any of those?”

Fjord squinted. The rain was falling heavy now, coating the windshield in a thick sheet of water that blurred most of the figures rushing by. Many of them had ducked under the overhang of the bus stop, though a few darted towards the lot in a mad dash for their cars.

Fjord sighed. “No, I…I don’t see ‘im,” he muttered. “God, I hate to say it, but at this point I think—”

And then he stopped. Hs squinted harder. Caleb, noticing this, looked too.

It was near-impossible to see through the storm, but Caleb could have sworn that moving sluggishly through the streets, a blurry but stark contrast to the grey, was a towering column of…of...of...

...pink?

Fjord waved his arms frantically behind the windshield. Then he jammed his key into the ignition, and the headlights of the station wagon flared to life.

“Hey, Caleb!” he shouted, then looked apologetic as Caleb jolted. “Sorry, sorry. Hey, can you call the house? Cad’s here, let ‘em know we’re coming home.”

The pink shape had noticed them. It approached.

\--------------------------------

“Wait, _what_?” Jester sank back into the couch. At this point, all the chips had been destroyed, Nott was eating an abandoned scrap of ham. “Wait, you mean that the light was _back_? Did it leave Earth, or something?”

Yasha shook her head. “No, ah...no, not quite. It was not really the light, you know, the _original_ light, but actually just a _very_ small part of it. It was...it was a soul. A very _tiny_ soul, but a soul all the same. It had come from, um, something that had died. And when it did, it...it came home. It came to Elysium, and went back into the Astral Sea.”

“What was it from? Like...a fish, or something?”

Yasha scratched her head. “Er...probably not. I am actually not so sure. Things got a little crazy after that, and over the next half a million years—”

From over in the corner of the kitchen, the phone rang.

All three of them turned to stare at it. Nott was the first to respond.

“I got it, I got it!” She scrambled off the couch and headed for the counter. “It’s probably Caleb and the other one.”

 _The other one?_ Yasha mouthed at Jester.

“She means Fjord,” Jester explained. “They’re just like that, I think it’s because they’re the best of friends—”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Nott grinned into the receiver. “Sure, sure, I’ll—yeah, sure. Okay. Sure. Drive safe, okay?”

There was a pause. Nott raised an eyebrow, walked over to the window. The telephone wire grew taught in her grasp.

“If you hurry, I think you can beat it,” she began, “it hasn’t gotten that bad y—”

And then a roar of thunder shook the room. Jester shrieked, startled, Yasha’s gaze snapped to the roof.

The chandelier trembled. When the tremor stopped, the cabin grew still. But now, the silence it left behind was filled with the sound of pouring rain.

“Wow,” Nott whistled. “Maybe you should tell Fjord to drive slower.”

Jester hurried over to join Nott. “Be careful, both of you!” she called, pressing her nose to the glass. “It looks like it’s getting really bad out there, you’ve got to—”

“ _Shit_.”

Nott whirled around. “What?” she asked. “Yasha, what’s wrong?”

Yasha was on her feet in seconds, racing for the attic stairs.

“Beauregard! She is still on the roof!”

\--------------------------------

The trapdoor swung open, shedding light into the darkness just as Beau shoved her laptop into her bag. The storm had long washed away the box of candles, and a deluge of rainwater poured down the wooden eaves. 

“Beauregard!” Through the downpour, Beau could just make out a figure. “Beauregard! Beau?! Where are you?!”

The hinges of the door screamed in the wind. The pressure of the storm was building, building, another wave of thunder groaned, ready to strike.

“Here!” Beau shouted, holding an arm over her head. If she squinted hard, she could see the attic lights. “Yasha, is that you?! Why are you here?!”

“Why are _you_ here?! Beau, it is dangerous!”

“Yeah, _no kidding_!” Her head whipped around. She considered her options; just storm for miles, coal-black and unrelenting and all-consuming. Rain assaulted her arms and legs as she desperately tried to keep her balance, and though she now could barely move, she also knew she couldn’t stay here.

The trapdoor, she remembered, was only twenty feet away.

It seemed a lot further. So did the ground. 

“Stay low!” Yasha called, voice frantic in the tempest. “Beauregard, stay low, ease your way over!”

Beau crouched down.  Water poured past her wrists. This did not feel much better.

“Yasha!” she shouted back, “I’m not sure if I can make it!”

“It will be alright! If you slip, I will—”

She was cut off as the sky split in two, an arc of lightning cleaving the clouds, blinding in the darkness, deafening the storm.

“ _What_?!”

Yasha yelled something back. It was lost in the following roar of thunder.

Beau grit her teeth. She dug her fingers into the roof. That little pool of light was getting further by the second—to combat this, she decided to close her eyes.

“Come on,” she muttered, “come on, come _on_ , you can do this. This is just parkour shit. It’s not...it’s not even _that_ bad.”

The torrent drowned out the tremble in her words. She could have sworn that Yasha had yelled again, but right now there was just the blood in her ears, the screaming of her muscles and the storm, and the fear.

She could feel her grip slipping. It was now or never. 

She pushed herself up, clung tight with her arms, carefully, _carefully_ , shifted her foot—

And almost immediately, it slipped.

She scrambled to keep purchase, but her leg hung over nothing, her fingers lost their grip, she tumbled down the side of the roof, face rain-beaten, body bruised, as she fell, she could see the lightning slice overhead, could feel the thunder, the torrent, then couldn’t hear at all, she threw her hands out wildly to the side and made one, last, desperate grab—

—her fingers grazed the gutter—

—they _missed_ —

And then, Beauregard was flying.

Actually, more accurately, she was being held, clutched by a pair of enormous arms and suddenly dry in a warm embrace. There was a rush, and a whisper, and a sudden, gentle breeze, and before Beau could blink again, as if by some miracle, she was back on the ground.

Well, almost on the ground. 

Yasha peered down at the woman in her arms, their faces so close that their noses could have brushed.

Her wings formed a canopy from the storm over their heads. The rain poured down around them like a waterfall, the distant glow of lightning blooming in the drops.

She frantically scanned over Beau’s expression. She peered in close.

“Are you okay? You were falling, and I…I did not want…”

She paused. Beau’s cheeks were very red.

She was suddenly very aware of the distance not between them.

Very hastily, she set Beau down, then held out a hand to help steady her friend.

They stood there in the silence together for quite a while.

Eventually, Beau managed to clear her throat.

“Th-thanks,” she said. “For…doing that.” And then she added, but not dryly because she was soaked:

“Uh...my hero.”

Yasha fidgeted. Her wings rustled.

“I, er…I am sure you had it under control.”

“Right,” Beau nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“You are very capable.”

“Oh, yeah. True.”

“It is just…I was concerned.”

“Sure.”

“So…I panicked.”

Beau glanced up at the feathers above their heads.

“ _That_ was…panic?”

Yasha rubbed the back of her neck. “Er...yes. Technically, I just revealed my true nature to you. Which is a big no-no.”

“You’ve done it once before, though.”

She grimaced.

“That is…good point.”

The rain fell around them. Here in this moment, with the storm raging above, the two of them were quiet and dry.

Beau could still feel the brush of Yasha’s fingers on her skin, like the ghost of a dream she’d never dared to have.

She coughed.

“You, um…you didn’t have to do that. You know, save me and all that.”

Yasha blinked. “What? Of course I did. You are my friend. And I care about you.”

Beau winced. “Oh. Is that...so.”

Yasha raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Only—”

And then, a yellow light appeared in the darkness.

Yasha’s wings were gone in a second. And through the onslaught of heavy rain, the both of them watched, drenched to their cores, as an old station wagon pulled into the driveway.

Beau blinked. “Hey, is that…?”

Yasha nodded. Her soggy mane of hair stuck awkwardly to her head.

“That is the other reason I came to find you,” she said. “I wanted to tell you. Fjord’s friend is on the way.”

\--------------------------------

Looking back on it now, the shift in mood from nearly dying, to watching a pink-haired, virtually seven-foot beanpole of a human being try to fit through the front door had probably been one of the strangest parts of Beau’s summer. Not even the angels, nor demons, nor the impending clusterfuck soon to rear its ugly head over the horizon had absolutely anything on the sight of Caduceus Clay failing three times bend his body in a way that would allow him entry to the cabin.

He did pull it off. Eventually. 

And then he was almost immediately killed by Jester, who plowed through the living room and dove over the couch and threw herself into his abdomen, screeching like a wild animal all the way.

“Caddy!” she yelled, swinging around his midsection. “Caddy, oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

Behind him, Fjord finally forced the door shut. He wiped the rain from his brow and kicked his shoes off. Caleb gratefully accepted a towel from Nott; Beau had grabbed a coat and was using that to wipe down. Yasha was above the petty concern of being dry.

Through the cabin walls, the storm outside rumbled.

Although, interestingly enough, _inside_ now also housed its very own rumble, coming from the new arrival himself. It precluded every word that he spoke, like a faint tremor woven in the atmosphere. 

He said:

“Why, Jester, is that you? Wow, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“No, silly, my hair is blue now! Well, it _was_ blue.” She stepped back and took a moment to comb it down. “See? The ends are what it used to be. I’m gonna re-dye it again soon.”

“It looks just swell. Maybe I’ll ask you to help me with mine.” He gestured to his own hair, an enormous curtain of chest-long waves, dyed a soft—yet still somehow blinding—pink. His pale complexion did nothing to offset this.

“ _Definitely_ ,” Jester giggled. “Just give me a call, any time! How was the ride over?” 

Nott very slowly shuffled over as well. She looked up. Then she looked up a little further.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” she said, not quietly enough. 

Caduceus nodded. “I get that a lot. You must be Nott, I’m guessing?”

She handed him a towel. “Got it in one. How’d you know?”

“Caleb told me all about you. And…” he glanced over her head, “and about you. You’re Yasha, right?”

The aforementioned angel shuffled into view. “It is good to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He ran the towel through his hair. “Nice to see you again too, Beau. You’re looking well.”

She snorted. “Thanks. And, uh, sorry for making you travel in this weather. Can I get you…I dunno, some soda, or something? Sorry, I think that’s all we have.”

“Oh, no worries,” He raised a large hand. “If you have a stove and water, I brought tea.”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, _brought_ tea?”  

He beamed and reached into his jacket. He produced a small, pale pink sachet.

It had a shiny green beetle sewn on it.

“Tea,” he said, as if that explained anything. “Home-grown, too. There’s nothing like it.”

“That is…remarkably prepared of you,” Caleb managed. “Er…thank you?”

“Of course.”

Beau glanced around at the others. Fjord looked like he was trying not to die of embarrassment. Jester was now trying to braid their guest’s hair, and Nott was radiating careful suspicion. 

Beau gingerly nodded her head.

“Sure,” she said. “Yeah, why not? I’ll go find a kettle, I guess.”

\--------------------------------

“Wow,” breathed Jester, as gentle steam filled her vision, “Caddy, this tea tastes _so_ good.”

“She’s right,” Nott added, taking a sip of her own, “I never thought I’d actually _like_ drinking leaf-water.”

“It’s one of my favorite blends,” Caduceus smiled. “It’s lemon-lavender chamomile, I give it to all my guests.”

“ _You’re_ the guest today, though,” Jester pointed out. “Isn’t it weird that you had to serve _us_?”

Caduceus’s gaze flickered just briefly over the table, where housed the last remnants of Yasha’s coffee on an abandoned cutting board.

“It’s...alright.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m just happy to help.”

“Speaking of help,” Fjord said, leaning forward, “I hope you don’t mind our ulterior motive for invitin’ you over. I mean, it is _great_ to see you again, but when we spoke on the phone—”

“You wanted assistance, right?” Caduceus blew the steam from his mug. “Don’t worry, I remember. What do you need? Funeral services?”

This was followed by a short pause, reminiscent of the silence caused by a Yasha-comment. It was amazing, the verbal powers they both wielded.

“It’s, uh...no,” said Fjord. “No, not that. We need your expertise. Or, uh... _assumed_ expertise.”

Caduceus took a sip. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Caleb scooted forwards. He produced a notebook.

“Mister Clay,” he said, tapping the cover, “we are in the middle of an…academic endeavor. An expedition of sorts, through the annals of time.”

“Do you even _listen_ to yourself?” Beau asked.

Caleb ignored this. He was in the zone.

“We are searching for a location,” he continued, “a very _old_ location, without much to go on. However, we have reason to believe that it may have something to do with...well, with _some_ kind of theology, so we were wondering if you could help. You told Fjord that your parents are priests, yes?”

“Sure.” Caduceus drank some tea. 

“Of which religion? Is it old?”

“It’s as old as the Mother,” Caduceus hummed. “The Wildmother, I mean. The earth and all the living things upon her. Some of the unliving ones, too.”

Caleb scratched his head.

“...sure. Sure, _ja,_ okay. But how far would you say that your scriptures date back?”

“Scriptures?” Caduceus blinked. “We don’t have anything like that.”

“What about old scrolls?”

“...old scrolls?”

“Okay, manuscripts.”

“Er...I might have a brochure somewhere.”

“Ancient tomes?”

“We have a _Farmer’s Almanac_.”

“Then are there any historic records?” Caleb pressed. “Or deeds? Or books or journals or diaries or registers, anything at all that we could consult to see if your faith can be of _any_ help?”

“Yowch,” said Fjord.

Caduceus sat there for a moment, really giving this some thought.

Eventually, he nodded.

“There are some magazines in our lobby.”

Caleb swiveled around to face Fjord. Fjord stared fixedly into his mug.

Caleb turned back around. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay, I…Mister Clay, I appreciate your help, but...unfortunately, I am not sure if this will work. Perhaps, my friend, you need not worry about this effort.”

“Sorry for makin’ you come all this way,” Fjord added, struggling to keep up. “Uh...if you wanna stay…?”

Before Caduceus could answer, Caleb huffed and picked up his mug. “Yasha,” he said, turning to the angel, “unfortunately, this may be a dead end. Maybe I can see if ‘Iothia’ is in—”

“Iothia? You mean _ȣɿɕƺᶋɷ_?”

Everyone fell silent. Their gazes snapped immediately to Cad.

Since arriving in the cabin, his expression had not once shifted from the polite, slightly-dazed beacon of camaraderie rather trademark to Mister Clay. But now, suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, his eyes had brightened, his posture perked up.

For a moment, nobody moved. They just stared at him in disbelief.

Of course, it took Caduceus a great while before one of his eyebrows rose. He blinked.

“Is, uh…is everything okay? You all stopped talking. Are we done now?”

“How did you do that with your mouth?” Beau demanded. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Huh?” He leaned back in confusion. “But I was just speaking Sylvan.” He glanced at Caleb. “Is that not...is that not what we’re doing?”

“Is that what _you_ were doing?” Nott asked. “Where did... _what_?”

“I just repeated what Caleb said,” Caduceus shifted around on the cushion. “Well, more accurately, anyway. Your accent isn’t too bad, Mister Caleb, but you need to work on intonation. There’s this throat thing, I think—”

Caleb suddenly leapt off the couch. He ran into the study, there was a frantic rustling sound, and then he emerged with some paper and a pen. He slapped it down onto the coffee table and scribbled something manically that he shoved to Cad.

Their guest looked down. He gave a slow nod.

“Yup. That’s Sylvan, I’d know it anywhere.”

“ _Ja_ , but what does it say?” Caleb pressed.

Caduceus chuckled. “Oh, no, no,” he said. “I can’t read it for the life of me. I only have a conversational knowledge.”

“ _Was_? How could you know it _conversationally_? This language has been dead for _centuries_!”

“Really?” Caduceus seemed genuinely surprised. “We speak it at home.”

As Caleb’s brain began to melt, Jester scrambled around the couch. She planted her hands on Caduceus’s shoulders.

“Say something else!” she cried. “Say: ‘Hi, I’m Caduceus!’”

“ _ƛƾʚ, ʤ_ , er...Caduceus,” he finished lamely. “There’s no direct transla—”

“Say: ‘It’s very nice to meet you!’”

He scratched his head. “Again, it’s not exactly the same, but the closest I can get is _ᶋɣȵ ɷʖɿƍʑƪƾɕ_.”

They stared at him.

“Or maybe it’s _ᶋƺȵ ɷʢɿƍʑƪƺɕ_?” he tried, after a pause. “My, uh, my sister is better at it than me.” He glanced back down at Jester. “Was that alright?”

She looked absolutely starstruck. “It was _amazing_ ,” she breathed. “Oh my...it sounds _just_ like how it used to!”

“How it used to?” He gave her a puzzled smile. “I don’t think it’s changed, Jes—”

Beau very slowly turned to Caleb. It looked like he was going through the five stages of grief.

“Are you, uh...good?” she asked. 

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes.

“I do not even know anymore.”

“Hey, Yasha,” Fjord turned, “did he say it right? Earlier, when he pronounced your place. Did it sound familiar?”

She tilted her head at Cad.

“Do it again. Iothia, what is it?”

“ _Ȣɿɕƺᶋɷ._ Wow, I feel like a DJ—”

Yasha looked up grimly. She gave a solemn nod. “That is it,” she murmured, “that’s _Ȣɿɕƺᶋɷ_. It is...it is strange, though, I…I should have _already_ known that. I…I know _every_ language, I should have already been able to say it.”

She leaned back into the couch, looking rather distressed. Nott handed her a cookie.

“I do not understand,” she murmured again, scattering crumbs everywhere. “I do not even understand what it _means._ ”

“Oh, that’s not too hard,” Caduceus said. “It’s, ah...I guess a rough translation of the components is ‘wide-river-woods.’ I’m not sure if it means anything put together, though.”

Yasha nodded again, slowly. “It _feels_ right,” she murmured. “When he says it, all of it _feels_ right. It feels...it feels…like I am going home.”

“Well, hey. Uh…maybe we should just try _that_ , then.”

Everyone turned to look at Beau.

“What do you mean?” Fjord asked. “Try...Sylvan?’

She threw her hands into the air. “It seems as good a strategy as anything, right? I mean, as of now, it’s the _only_ hit we’ve got. Maybe we can throw words at Cad, and he can translate them, and we’ll see what sticks.”

Jester tapped her chin. “That seems like it’ll take _forever_ , though. Caddy, are you okay with that?”

“You may have to stay a few days,” Caleb added, though weakly as he was in the midst of recovery. “This will not be an easy task.”

Caduceus shrugged. “Sure. I wasn't doin' too much at home, and this cabin is just lovely. Besides, I wouldn’t say no to catching up with old acquaintances.”

Nott stared at him. “Just like that?” she asked. “You’re just gonna say yes, no questions asked? Don’t you have a life to get back to? Responsibilities? Summer plans?”

He took a sip of tea.

“The only plan that really matters is the one my Mother has for me.”

This was followed by silence, and the sound of falling rain.

Eventually, Fjord cleared his throat. He gave his old roommate a weak smile. “Well then,” he said. “Well, uh…welcome aboard, I guess.”

“I sure feel welcome,” Caduceus nodded.

“You should know, though,” Jester said, patting him on the arm, “we aren’t _acquaintances_. We’re friends!”

He chuckled at that, and nodded his head. “Right, of course. Friends. Speaking of, we’ve hardly had a moment to chat. How _have_ you all been getting on, anyway? Is the scholarship still working for you?”

That last comment was addressed to Fjord, whose eye gave the faintest twitch.

“It’s, uh, it’s as good as it’s ever been,” he said, and smiled faintly. “Could do with a little less pressure, though.”

“Ah, can’t we all?” he said, then chuckled. The rest of the gang laughed too, though uncertainly. There was something very strange about his presence; somehow it was both soothing and utterly nerve-wracking. 

“You should drink more tea, Fjord,” Caduceus added, oblivious to this. “When we roomed together, I kept trying to get you to, remember? It’s good for you.”

“I, er...I know,” Fjord sighed, “and I sure appreciate how much you cared. But...I never really got past the, you know, the graveyard stuff?”

Nott started to choke. “W— _graveyard_ stuff?”

Caleb carefully eyed his mug. “Should I be...concerned?” he asked. “Now that I am noticing, Fjord, you have not touched yours at all.”

Caduceus smiled. “He’s always been a worrywart. But as I told him before, it’s absolutely safe. And corpses do just swell as fertilizer.”

There was a moment of silence. Stretching out through the whole interior of the cabin. 

And then, Yasha said:

“He is correct. Your species used to sow their harvest on the flesh of those who had passed. It is one of the oldest ways of re-using what the earth provides.”

Caduceus looked up. He beamed at Yasha.

“Are you a follower of the Mother, too?”

She considered this. 

“I...do not think so. Technically. Probably.”

His grin didn’t falter. “That’s alright. She’ll find you, if that’s what your destiny is.”

Yasha drank some graveyard tea.

“I am not so sure about ‘destiny,’ Mister Clay.”

There was a pause, following that, and Beau immediately wondered if the unshakable Caduceus had been thrown. But just as she turned to see his expression, he suddenly sat up on the cushion, slapped his knees, and nodded his head.

“This sounds like a conversation with potential,” he announced. “Why don’t we continue it over some dinner? I’ll treat you. All of you,” he added, smiling at the others, “if I’m staying the night, I insist. To repay you for your hospitality.”

“Well, er, hang on,” Fjord said, doing desperate mental acrobatics to keep up with their conversation. “We sort of kidnapped you here, Cad. You don’t _have_ to be so kind.”

“Or steal the kitchen,” Beau added, who was torn between disgust and delight at how suddenly badass her tea was. “You’re the guest, you’re supposed to just chill.”

“Nonsense,” Caduceus shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. Besides, I quite like cooking, and right now, it’s dark and stormy outside, so what we really need is a nice, warm meal. What do you say?”

Nott looked him over. “Are you a good cook? Will you be putting dead bodies in our dinner?”

He chuckled.

“That depends, I suppose. What sorts of ingredients do you have?”

\--------------------------------

“...that’s a lot of fish.”

“Is that okay?”

“It…yeah. I can make that work.”

\--------------------------------

That evening, the boy’s room gained one more member. His snoring shook the cabin walls, though this was lost in the drumming rain.

“Night,” called Beau, from the floor of their room. 

“Night!” Jester echoed, rolling over to smile. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

“I’ll bite ‘em first,” Nott said, from the top bunk. “They had better not try any shit.”

Yasha shifted onto her side. “Why do you always do that?” she asked. “Before sleeping, you all point out that it is night. Do you not already know? Is that not why we are resting?”

She felt something tap the leg of her cot. She glanced down.

“It’s a human thing,” said Beau. “It’s short for ‘good night.’ It means we hope you sleep well.”

“Oh.” Yasha considered this. “I…see.”

Beau tapped the cot again. “Alright, now you say it too.”

“What?” Yasha frowned. “But...I am not a human.”

Beau rolled her eyes at this, though the curve of her lip, just faintly, was fond.

“You’re hangin’ with us, so it’s okay,” she said. “Go on, say it. Say ‘good night, sleep tight.’”

“Hold on, why would you be sleeping t—”

She paused when she saw the sigh in Beau’s expression.

“Good night. Sleep tight,” she echoed obediently. 

“See? That wasn’t hard.”

“You’re doing _great_ ,” Jester added, from across the room. “Stick with us, and we’ll show you just how to be a human.”

“Sometimes it’s not too bad,” Nott added, pulling the covers over her head. “Sometimes, you get to eat a bunch of French fries.”

And as Jester giggled, then turned back over in bed, Beau sat up onto her knees and rested her chin on the edge of Yasha’s mattress.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice just on the edge of hearing. “Hey, uh…I need to say something.”

Yasha blinked. She leaned down. “Yes?”

Beau took a deep breath. Then, in one quick burst, she said:

“Th—thanks. For before. You know. For, um, for saving me. Today.”

Her voice, though swift, was only the barest breeze through the pines. Her eyes were as soft as the moon.

Then she added, just a bit slower, “Good, um, good night, Yasha. I…hope you sleep well.”

She dove back under the covers and hid before Yasha could reply  

\--------------------------------

And eventually, they did all fall asleep.

\--------------------------------

See: 

A storm, the size of the world.

See stardust and ether, heat and raw plasma, rising, soaring, burning as you plummet. Feel the wind cutting scars into your skin, feel the lightning scoring bone-white against your eyes. Feel the iron ‘round your wrists turn to ash in the flaming air.

Look down. See mountains, see trees, see a lake and the moonlit waves below.

You must get home. You _must_ get home. 

Look up. See the stars.

Feel panic. Feel fear. Feel loss beyond knowing. Feel anger and rage and despair and…relief.

_Relief?_

_Why am I reli—_

Feel the water, rushing up to meet you.

\--------------------------------

Yasha snapped awake.

In the quiet midnight hours of a world long asleep, she sat there for a moment panting, drenched in sweat. A gentle darkness blanketed the others, and through the cabin walls, she could hear the boys snore.

She sat up. She pushed her blanket down. She choked on the aching thud of her chest.

Air, she thought to herself. She needed air.

She rose to her feet, but sleep pulled at the edge of her vision, so she pressed a hand to her cot to hold steady.

Her fingers brushed against something on the sheets.

She glanced down. Her eyes adjusted.

And then she frowned. She leaned in closer.

Resting on the soft white linen of her blanket was a single, solitary feather.

She bent over to examine it further and almost immediately, her nose wrinkled. Losing a feather in and of itself was not strange, but this one, this one…there was something wrong…the _smell,_ alone…

It smelled like ozone. Like char, and like death.

She reached out and picked it up. She held it to the moon.

It was black. 

Stifling a shout, she yanked her arm back, shook her empty hand as if she’d been burned and as her gaze snapped back to the feather, she watched as before her very eyes, it hit the mattress and crumbled into dust.

And then vanished.

For the longest time after, she couldn’t move—just stood there, staring, and still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving comments and kudos, or reccing to a friend! (I would be eternally grateful.) You can expect the next chapter to come up hopefully around this time next week, and in the meantime, you can always find me as @sockablock on tumblr. Thanks so much for reading again, and I'll see you guys soon!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> (also: how about episode 69, huh? oh BOY)


	7. The Distant Glimmer of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring: adventures in home decoration, important conversations, an angel at her wit's end, the appearance of hope

“How about...field?

“ _ȹʖƪɕƍ_.” 

“Is that familiar?”

“Er...sorry. It is not.”

“Okay then, next…Mister Clay, can you say ‘meadow?’”

“Oh, that one’s easy. It’s _ʘƾɬƺᶋᵿʤɕ_.”  

“Anything?”

Yasha shook her head.

“No,” she sighed, “no, nothing. I am sorry to say this, but perhaps it is possible that this plan may have no use.”

“Well, that is not entirely true.” Caleb enthusiastically tapped his notebook. “Even if we find no leads, _Engel,_ this is a _fascinating_ exercise. For eons we have thought the Sylvan language dead, but now, before our very eyes, here we suddenly have a native speaker! This will revolutionize the field beyond anything I ever could have dreamed.”

“Gosh, but I’m not _really_ a native speaker,” Caduceus said, though he still looked pleased by the attention. “I just hope my help is enough.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Caleb agreed. “Already you have provided incredible insight into the structural composition of these words. I must ask, what is your favorite temporal state? And why do you have to conjugate adject—”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ already!” From across the room, Beau rolled her eyes and made a rude gesture that Jester laughed at. “Your nerd shit is too fuckin’ annoying, Caleb. It’s seriously harshing my vibe.”

“ _Harshing my vibe_?” Nott repeated incredulously. She and Fjord were standing at the other end of the office, in the process of taping something to the wall. “Jeez, what _year_ are you from? Nobody talks like that anymore.”

“Yeah, well, maybe _I_ do.”

“Exactly. Like I said, nobody.”

Beau scowled and threw a wad of paper. It fell short; Nott stuck out her tongue.

“Knock it off, _bitte_ ,” Caleb frowned at them both. “We are in the midst of the century’s greatest linguistic breakthrough. We have near-revitalized an entirely dead language!”

“Again,” began Caduceus, “it isn’t really _d_ —”

“ _Ja,_ _ja,_ sure.” Caleb waved his hand. “Now, my friend, tell me. What is ‘grassland’?”

\--------------------------------

Over in their little corner of the ceasefire, Beau finished smoothing down half of Western China.

“I mean, I know we’re _desperate_ ,” she said, handing Jester the next chunk of DIY map, “but putting up the entire fucking world and just circling all the rivers and forests we can find doesn’t really sound like the best plan. Do you really think that’ll get us anywhere?”

Jester slapped a chunk of Pacific Ocean onto the wall. “Well…maybe not,” she admitted, “but Caleb seems convinced it’ll help. And anyways, aren’t you having fun?” She beamed and pointed at their progress. “It’s just like an arts and crafts project! And it’s much better than reading through those dusty old books.”

Beauregard considered the office interior, which had now been rendered completely unrecognizable. Gone was the nice mahogany desk, the beautiful shelves and the decorative tables, gone was the lovely, plush red carpet, the tchotchkes and knickknacks and woodland-themed memorabilia. Instead, about an hour ago, all of the room’s contents had been shoved through the doorway with the help of Yasha and piled unceremoniously in the living room into one giant, ramshackle heap.

What lay in the wake of the destruction, was this:

Caleb, Caduceus, and Yasha sat on the bare floorboards of the epicenter, surrounded by atlases, notebooks, and two dictionaries. Fjord and Nott stood by the eastern wall, and were currently in the middle of attempting to replicate some kind of elaborate chart onto a sheet of canvas. Apparently, Fjord was doing a terrible job; Nott held a jar of whiteout in one hand and was systematically erasing everything that he’d drawn.

Across from them were Jester and Beau, taping a floor-to-ceiling map of the world onto the wall one 8½-by-11-inch piece of paper at a time.

It was in full color. There were _many_ sheets. If Beau was a better person, she’d feel guilty.

It was also important to note that aside from the scale and the ecological trauma, there was something rather fascinating about this map: it had been edited, and _heavily_ at that. In some sections, it looked as if a crazed kindergartener had attacked the globe with awful green sharpie; in others, that same manic child had deleted forests and coastlines with wild abandon. Sometimes a mountain would be scribbled in, sometimes an additional river or lake.

Occasionally, Caleb would even wander over and then viciously erase a whole island.

He was rather enjoying himself today.

“Is your mom gonna be pissed that we did this?” Beau asked, nodding to their terrible masterpiece-in-the-works. “We probably scratched the paint underneath, and it’ll be even worse when we take this down.”

“Eh…” Jester slapped some tape onto New Zealand. “Honestly? She’s probably fine. She wanted to redecorate in here anyways. _Plus,_ it’s not like she’s coming over, you know?”

“I guess that’s true.” Beau studied the wall. “I just can’t stop thinking, though, that if this were my house, my mom would’ve flipped. Once, when I was little, I got nail polish all over the hallway, and she made me stand there and watch the maid clean it.”

“Really?” Jester raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment.”

Beau grimaced. “Believe me, it was. Mom could use guilt like a _sword_.”

Jester gave Beau a sympathetic pat. “Well, she probably meant well,” she said. “That’s what mommas are for, right?”

Beau paused for a moment, then sighed. She always could tell Jester everything, but that didn’t always mean she wanted to. Instead, she settled for switching topics.

“How _is_ your mom anyways?” she asked, watching Jester hold the Polynesian Islands upside-down. “Got any plans to go home and visit?”

Jester gave a small smile, then shook her head. “I _wish_ , but…no, not really. Not yet. Things are still kind of complicated. And even though I don’t think I’m in _legal_ trouble, that guy is still _sort of_ out for my guts.”

“Your guts?”

“Whatever that saying is. But…yeah, Momma thinks that it’s best that I just stay here. For now. Until…until things calm down.”

“You know I’ll fight ‘im for you, right?” Beau picked up another piece of ocean. “I’ll beat that guy until he doesn’t know your name. Until he doesn’t even know his _own_ name.”

Jester giggled. “Thanks, Beau. Hey, maybe he’ll come to America one day, and we can lay a trap for him then.”

“ _Hell_ yeah! He won’t even know what hit ‘im.”

“Oh, no, he _definitely_ will.” Jester waggled her eyebrows menacingly. “After all, we’ve got to make _sure_ he knows who’s boss.”

\--------------------------------

“Alright, I don’t know what I’m doin’ anymore.” Fjord turned the book sideways, then turned his head. “Nott, which star is this one, again? And where’s it supposed to be?”

Nott stretched up and balanced on her toes. Fjord lowered the chart so that she could see.

“That one goes over here,” she said, pointing to a space indistinguishable from the rest. “Jeez, I thought you’d be good at this, Fjord. Aren’t sailors supposed to know the stars?”

“I know the stars we have _today_ ," he grunted, "not the ones from 6,000 years ago. Though, I’d be willin’ to bet that there isn’t _anyone_ alive who does. Not unless they’re secretly a dinosaur.”

“Or an angel,” she pointed out. “Remember, this chart isn’t for us, it’s for Yasha to jog her memory.”

“Then why’s it gotta be so big?” he frowned. “Why can’t she just look in here, instead of us havin’ to draw it on the wall?”

Nott presented him with a level stare.

“Do you _really_ wanna know?” she asked. “You sure that you’ll be able to take the truth?”

He blinked. “Truth?” he asked. “What truth?”

She gestured for him to lean back down. Slowly, suspiciously, he did.

She cupped her hands around his ear. She whispered:

“It’s all just to keep you occupied. You’d get in the way otherwise.”

“W— _hey_!”

He jerked back and glared at her. She smiled, satisfied and huge.

“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all. “Sometimes reality is hard to bear.”

“Oh, knock it off,” he turned and crossed his arms. “You’re just jealous that Caleb has a new best friend. One that can speak a funky dead language.”

“Hah!” she scoffed and picked up her whiteout. “Now _that,_ that’s just untrue. I’m not that stupid, Fjord. What we have is way deeper than that.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyebrows hit his hairline. “You certain about that, Nott?”

“Of _course_ I am. Caleb is _my_ boy. You’d understand that, if you had any friends.”

“Any _friends_?!” he spluttered. “I’m in a _house_ with all my friends! I literally drove all of you here!”

“Yeah, but that just makes you a chauffeur.”

Fjord scowled. “I’m too nice for you, you gremlin.”

She gasped, as if scandalized. “Hey! That’s no way to talk to a _lady_ , you dick!”

“Yeah, well, good thing I ain’t, then,” he said, making a face at her. “Now come on, come on, tell me where that stupid star goes. We’re supposed to be workin’ together, right?”

\--------------------------------

Caleb tapped his pen to his chin.

“Inlet,” he said.

Caduceus blinked.

“In…what? What’s that?”

Yasha heaved a mighty sigh and crossed her arms.

This had been going on for two hours, now. She could feel her patience wearing down like glass under sharpened nails.

\--------------------------------

Beau considered the top half of Brazil. After a moment, she set her page down.

“Hey, uh…can I ask you something?”

Jester turned towards her and nodded. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Beau looked around the study. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice.

“What, uh...what do you think of Yasha?”

“Yasha?”

“ _Shhhh,_ Jes, be quiet.” She hastily glanced over the others, but they were too busy to have paid this any mind. Still, she motioned for Jester to speak softly. “Yes, Yasha,” she agreed. “How do you feel about her? What’re your thoughts?”

Jester giggled and titled her head. “Beau, you already know how I feel, don’t you?”

“Do I?” 

“Of course!” Beau flinched and Jester quickly backpedaled. “Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “I just meant that it’s pretty obvious I like her, right? I think she’s super nice, and she’s trying really hard to be our friend. She’s trying _real_ hard to be _your_ friend, Beau,” she waggled her eyebrows teasingly. “She thinks about you a lot, you know. And she worries about you all the time.”

“Yeah, well…I don’t know _why._ ” Beau surprised herself by sighing. She’d been expecting to frown. “It’s not like I’m in danger, or anything. My life really isn’t that exciting.”

“Are you sure about that? You almost fell off the roof, yesterday. Didn’t she have to save you, or something?”

“That was an accident.”

Jester tilted her head. “ _Really_? It wasn’t just a scheme to get her to pick you up?”

This time, Beau did manage to frown. 

“What makes you think I’d try _that_ , Jes?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Call it a hunch.”

Beau rolled her eyes. She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, I can confirm that it wasn’t. Maybe I would’ve tried something like that before—you know, just for fun, of course.”

“Of course,” Jester bobbed her head.

“Right. Well. But now, I mean…now, I dunno anymore. As much as I’d like to…to…”

“Canoodle?”

Beau groaned. “ _Jester_ —”

“Sorry.”

She waved a hand. “You’re right, though, I mean…you’re right. But as much as I’d like that, I just don’t think I should, anymore. She’s an _angel_ , for cryin’ out loud. And think about all the shit she’s been through. All the stuff she’s forgotten, and how lost she must feel, I mean…just think about this morning! She seemed really upset, Jes. And I dunno…trying to get with her now? That kind of feels like a dick move. And I know I’m a piece of shit, but I’m not _that_ kind of piece of shit.”

Jester studied her expression. Then she said:

“ _I_ don’t think you’re a piece of shit.”

Beau sighed. “Jes—”

“No. Don’t argue.”

Beau reluctantly fell silent and Jester continued, “Beau, I know you don’t agree, but right now I think you’re being a really _good_ person. It’s pretty obvious, from all of that, that you really care about Yasha too! Plus, you’ve _been_ caring, right from the start! _You_ volunteered to help her, didn’t you? And then, when it got really hard, you were _still_ determined to be helping her. That’s not something a piece of shit would do.”

Beau stared at her hands. “But what if I did it all for the wrong reason?” she murmured. “Or what if her caring about me is a distraction?”

Jester picked up a patch of ocean. “Okay, so maybe that’s true,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean your reasons are _still_ bad, and I don’t think feelings like that could ever hurt. Maybe she _needs_ a distraction, Beau. Maybe she needs someone to help take her mind off of everything that’s going wrong.”

Beau eyes went hard. She felt her shoulders sag.

“But what if I don’t want to be a _distraction_? What if…what if I want something else?”

Jester reached out. She put a hand on Beau’s arm.

“Then do it,” she said; Beau’s gaze snapped up. “I mean it, seriously. Just try. Yasha could find her way home any day, now. So what would you rather do? Spend as much time with her while you know she’s still here, or avoid her and never once stay by her side?”

\--------------------------------

“Abandon.”

“ _ƺᵿʮʖɕƍłʑ_.”

“Abate.”

“ _ʤƾɷȣɬᶋ_.”

“Abdomen.”

“Er… _ʘƛȣʚłƪ ȹɿʑᶈʯ łɣɕƺɷɿʚʖ_.”

“What, really?”

“It’s a long one,” Caduceus said. “It roughly translates to ‘pleasure of the soul.’”

“That… _ja_ okay, I will make a note of it. Are you sure—”

“Excuse me, but why are we doing this?”

Caleb and Caduceus turned just in time to watch Yasha sigh.

“What do you mean?” Caleb asked. “We are running through the dictionary.”

“Or as many of the words as I know,” Caduceus said.

Yasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, yes, I know that,” she said, “but why are we doing those random words? Should we not be focused on the Earth? I thought you said that it would help the search.”

“Oh, er…I suppose I did.” Caleb scratched the corner of his chin. “But, and I am being honest here, I had just assumed that we had failed. We covered everything from archipelagos to savannahs, and you did not recognize a single one.”

Yasha blinked, taken aback. “Well…yes,” she admitted, “that may be true, but I assumed we would move onto something else. What about those charts?” She waved at Nott and Fjord. “What about the map of the world we put up? Why have we not moved onto them now?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed slightly. He said, as delicately as he could, “I asked for those things because I had been hoping that with more leads, they would be useful. But, Yasha, we have nothing we can use other than a very rough translation of Iothia. Without any other details, without knowledge of the climate, or the region, or the wildlife, all of it is still like chasing a wild goose. We need more information. And until you can remember more, we have no next path we can take. Er…sorry,” he added half-heartedly, as he met Yasha’s expression. “Of course, I will continue to do all I can to help. But there _is_ a limit on what that help can be.”

Yasha stared into his face. Then she said, though her voice seemed quite far away:

“But…but I need to get home. I still need to find a way back.”

“And we will do that,” Caleb nodded. “Certainly, _Engel_ , we _will_ accomplish this. You said that we had all the time in the world, _ja_? Let us just take this slow. As long as you do not get sick of fish, there is nothing to worry about, in staying here.”

She blinked at him once or twice. Then, pointedly, she turned to Cad.

“And what about you?” she asked. “Are you not impatient, doing this? Does this not make you frustrated, or bored?”

Caduceus chuckled. He gestured to the floor around him, which over the course of the afternoon had slowly been swallowed by a sea of paper lilies. He was currently in the middle of fashioning another.

“I honestly can’t complain,” he said. “It’s pretty peaceful here, and it’s nice to get a break from my siblings.”

Yasha’s pleading expression darkened. “Yes, well...I should like to return to mine. Before I fear it may be too late.”

“ _Ja_ , right, that burning feeling.” Caleb turned a page in his book. “But did you not say that it was fine? That things as they stand are not so urgent?”

Yasha shifted uncomfortably. “Things…they…they are…” She huffed. “Possibly. Maybe. Nothing I am sure of. Nothing…nothing that should alarm you. But as of now, getting home has become my top priority.”

“Wasn’t that your top priority already?” Caduceus creased a fold in his flower. “Hey, where did you say you were from again, Miss Yasha?”

Her eyebrow twitched. She stared at the ground.

“Elysium,” she muttered, so soft they could barely hear. “I am from the realm of Elysium. The silver island adrift on the Astral Sea.”

“Oh,” said Caduceus. He tapped a petal. “Uh…tropical weather, then? I assume?”

Yasha said nothing. Her gaze bore into the floor.

Caleb carefully closed his notebook. He leaned in. “ _Engel_ ,” he began, “if this is really bothering you, we can still try—”

And then, suddenly, she rose. Her flannel shirt, checkered white and black, rustled softly in the breeze she left behind.

“I…I need to go outside,” she said. She glanced over Caleb and Cad, but it seemed like she wasn’t really looking at them. “I need to get some…some air. I will…yes. I will do that. Goodbye.”

She strode out of the study without another word and didn’t even bother to close the door behind her.

\--------------------------------

There was a moment of startled silence. Then Jester nudged Beau in the shoulder.

“Well?” she said. “Come on, now’s your chance!

\--------------------------------

Yasha was pacing by the side of the road, bare feet crunching against dry gravel, when Beau finally emerged from the house.

The angel glanced up. They made eye contact for all of two seconds before Yasha resumed her frantic march. 

Beau eased the door shut behind her.

“Is, uh...is everything alright, there?” She slowly made her way down the porch steps. Above them, the sun cast down a lazy shadow from just over the tops of the trees.

Yasha sighed. “No,” she said. “It is not. And I cannot keep pretending otherwise.”

Beau came to a halt at the edge of the grass. She watched Yasha turn and keep pacing.

“Is…okay, uh…why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, then? Is something bothering you? Can I, uh, help?”

“No, no, you cannot! That is the problem, is it not?” Yasha threw her hands into the air. “I cannot keep doing this. I cannot keep relying on you and your friends for assistance.”

Beau tried to respond with a light chuckle, but mostly it came out as a mangled cough. “I— _ahem_ —well, uh…do you mind…do you mind telling me _why_?”

Yasha pinched the bridge of her nose. Her forehead wrinkled with harsh, frustrated creases.

Beau took a deep breath. She went for broke.

“It’s not…it’s not because of _me_ , is it?”

And then, for the first time since coming outside, Yasha stopped.

She went still.

“What? Why would it be _you_?”

Beau hastily raised her hands. “Well, er…well…I dunno, I guess. I was just worried that this had something to do with the other day. You know. When I told you about the auras, and things. I didn’t, uh…I didn’t offend you, did I? I don’t want you to think I hated that you were…that you were trying to read me or anything. I mean, I didn’t…I wasn’t _trying_ to—”

Yasha looked just as confused as Beau felt. Slowly, mystified, she shook her head.

“No, er…no, Beauregard, that does not have anything to do with this. This is a…it is different thing. It is…very complicated. Things are change—no, things _have_ changed. It is not…it is not something that you will understand.”

Beau rolled her eyes. “No, hang on, I really hate it when people say that. Come on, just _try_ me. What’s wrong?”

Yasha looked stricken. Her gaze fell back to the dirt. “I…I also do not know if I _can_ share this,” she mumbled. “I have already shared so much. Beau, you and your friends know _so_ much.”

“Alright, you _know_ that that’s not true. You’ve met us, Yash, we’re just a bunch of idiots.”

For but a second, Yasha’s expression flickered. Beau could’ve sworn that the angel had tried to smile.

“You are…no, you are not idiots,” she murmured. “None of you are. You are very welcoming and very clever people. But…but that is just it. You are _people_ , you supposed to just be people. And the longer that I stay with you here, the…the farther I will get from heaven.”

Beau groaned. “Seriously?” She took another small step forward. Yasha’s shoulders tensed slightly, though she did not flee. For now.

“I just can’t believe that’s true,” Beau continued. “Why…why would that be the case? If it’s supposed to be your job to protect creation, what’s the use in staying away? And don’t give me that demon crap, I know about demons and all that shit. I can _guarantee_ it, Yash, evil monsters made of hellfire just isn’t you.”

Yasha went rigid.

She grimaced.

“Beauregard, that is…you do not know as much as you think so.”

“Then tell me!” She snapped, to a surge of emotion that surprised even her. “Come on, Yasha, just explain it, then! You don’t need to protect me all the time! And you don’t need to shelter me. I can take it, whatever it is. And I’m here to help you through it! I know…” she faltered, but then took another breath. “I _know_ what it’s like to feel lost, alright? I know what it’s like to feel abandoned. I would’ve killed to have someone on my side, then, and I can’t just let you suffer alone. Especially not when we’re so close. Er…close to the goal, I mean. Just give us a chance. Come on, have some faith. That’s what angels are all about, right?”

She closed the rest of the space between them and tried to meet the figure before her. But despite the soft summer afternoon around them, Yasha’s gaze was just as striking, just as unearthly as it’d been on the night that they had met.

Still, Beau reached out a hand.

She said:

“Trust us. Trust _me_ , Yash. What happened? Why are you so upset?”

Yasha watched her fingers tremble in the sun.

 _You must get home. You_ must _get home. You cannot stay here, the way you are, this is not what she would want—_

 _...she? Who was_ she _? No, not…not Beauregard…_

Yasha dragged her fingers through her hair.

Beau instinctively took a step back, then forced herself to be still.

“Yasha?” she said. “H-hey, now—”

“I am sorry, I am just so _confused_ ,” Yasha moaned, “I do not understand what is _happening_ anymore!”

“That, er…okay,” Beau managed, “okay, just remember, I’m here, you have _help_ —”

She shook her head furiously. “No, this is different. This is something that you cannot _fix_ —"

“Just try me,” Beau pleaded again, “just _try_.”

“But It is not _permitted!_ I must not _interfere_ —”

And then, suddenly, she stopped.

Her head abruptly swiveled around. Her gaze went as wide as the skies.

Beau blinked.

“Er…Yasha? What…?”

When the angel did not respond, she instead followed her gaze into the distance, up past the pines and through the woods to somewhere, someplace, unseen towards the east.

“Yasha?” Beau prompted again. “What’s, uh…what’s going on _now_?”

Yasha took a breath. She couldn’t look away.

“It is…oh _, Beauregard_. Can you feel that?”

Beau genuinely had to suppress a sigh. “No, I…no, I can’t. Why?” She frowned. “What is it that _you_ feel?”

Yasha inhaled deeply once more. Her shoulders relaxed, like her despair was melting away.

“It is…I can hardly believe this, Beauregard. I can…I can sense someone else!”

“Someone else?” She huffed and crossed her arms. “Come on, now, be more specific. Look at me, _talk_ to me, who _is_ it?”

Slowly, very slowly, Yasha finally turned. And now Beau could see her expression, could see how her mouth had formed a massive smile, how her eyes practically radiated delight, how a week’s worth of uncertainty and fear had suddenly vanished and instead she was shining, _brimming_ , with glowing hope—

“It’s another one,” she gasped. “Beauregard, another  _angel_ _!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving comments and kudos as that's what keeps me goin! Also, things are about to kick off, so I super can't wait for you to see what's a-comin'. Next update should be up (as usual) around next week, and in the meantime you can always find me as [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on tumblr. My inbox is always open!
> 
> Until next time!! <3333


	8. A Night to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> featuring: a drive through the woods, arrival at the fair, a parade of sorts, i refuse to re-write the same performance a second time, revelations, the last member is found

“No, no, right there!”

“Where?” 

“ _There!_ No—yes! Yes, in that direction.”

Fjord slammed on the brakes just in time to clumsily skid their car off the turnpike. Their tires screeched against ragged asphalt and the scenery viciously blurred past their windows, but he managed to keep their vehicle from crashing and with one more frantic spin of the wheel, launched everyone down the narrow turn.

Sitting in the back, faces pale and eyes wide, Caleb, Jester, Beau, and Nott all felt their hearts crawl back into their chests.

“That… _jesus_ ,” Beau rubbed her eyes. “A little more warning next time, okay?”

“Please,” Caleb added, almost begged. “I cannot take much more of this.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yasha said, though she sounded distracted and was busy craning her neck out the window. “These roads are just not very exact. I am trying to find the source as best I can.”

“Can you tell me again what exactly we’re lookin’ for?” Nott tried to steady herself in Jester’s lap. “You said that there’s an _angel_ out there?”

“Yes,” Yasha nodded fervently. “I can feel them, and we are getting very close. It should not be that much longer.”

“You said that twenty-nine minutes ago,” Caleb muttered. “And again, six minutes after that.”

Instead of answering, Yasha tapped the windshield. “There, there, turn right there!” Fjord obediently complied; the gang behind them held on for dear life. “Good,” she murmured, “good, now...yes. Yes, just go straight. The presence is overwhelming, we _must_ arrive soon.”

“Who _is_ the other angel, anyways?” Jester unpeeled her cheek from the door. “Is it someone that you’re friends with? Someone you know?”

“Er…actually,” Yasha briefly glanced into the rearview mirror, “actually, I cannot tell who it is. This is not a very…exact thing.”

“Wait, wait, wait, it’s not a _what_?” Nott leaned around Yasha’s chair. “You don’t even know who it _is_? What if it’s someone you _don’t_ like? What if it’s someone who doesn’t like _you_? Or, or, what if it’s a _trap_ of some kind?!”

“Christ, Nott, stop shouting.” Beau covered her ears. “Your voice is like sandpaper—”

Next to her, Jester gasped. “Oh my _god_ ,” she said, “what if it’s a _demon_?! They’re out there, aren’t they, Yasha? What if they’re trying to trick you and hurt you?”

“What?” Yasha turned and actually scoffed at that. “No, no, that is...no way. Something like that is just impossible.”

“Really?” Caleb tilted his head. “Why are you so sure? Can you sense them differently?”

“Is it a smell-test?” Nott added.

Yasha faltered for but a moment. Then she shook her head and said, “It is...it is just a fact that is known, though I suppose…technically, there is no difference between us. ‘Angel’ and ‘demon’ are just the names for two sides of a battle. But...the demons were the _losers_ of that battle. And they should _know_ that they would be crushed by us on sight. No demon would dare come up to Earth, and certainly none would broadcast themselves so openly like this. It would just be asking for troubles.” She crossed her arms. “I am sure, it _must_ be another angel. They must be here to find me after so long.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Fjord hummed. “It’s nice to have friends that’ll come and check up on you.”

Yasha again momentarily fell silent. 

“Friends, er...friends is a little...not accurate,” she said eventually. “They are more like...you know. Allies. Co-workers?” She considered this. “…yes, co-workers. They are the ones I have known my entire life, and who I have worked with for eons before this to ensure the safety of the world.”

“I’ve never thought about the other techs like that,” Nott muttered. “Mostly they’re just annoying. And they drink all the coffee.”

“I’ve also known my co-workers my whole life,” Caduceus called, from the very back of the trunk. “Of course, they’re my siblings, and it’s a family business. Miss Yasha, do you work in a family business, too?”

This was followed by a long pause. 

Then Fjord gave a cough. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“Yasha, should I, uh...should I turn here? Or keep going straight?”

“…straight. Yes, please keep following.”

“We don’t even have HR,” Caduceus added when nobody said anything else. “Well, I guess not unless you count my mom.”

\--------------------------------

They drove for almost twenty more minutes—sixteen, as Caleb would’ve known—winding down an uncertain path as the sun above them slowly began to set. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Yasha guided them around one last curve and suddenly, rigidly, she went stiff.

“We are close,” she announced. “Yes, _very_ close.”

“ _How_ close?” Nott griped, spitting out some of Jester’s hair. “A few feet away, or a few _miles_ away? It’s been nearly an hour now, Yasha. I can’t go on like this for much longer.”

“You’re telling me?” Beau shuffled around. “I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

“ _Ja_ , well, _I_ can. Scoot over, for god’s sake.”

Beau made a face and punched Caleb in the arm. Her elbow whacked Fjord’s seat in the process.

“We should also stop for a bathroom break,” she added. “Or at least to get some snacks.”

“Sorry,” Yasha sighed. “I did not expect to go this long. But now, I promise, I really _promise,_ here is almost the end. The presence is...it is _overwhelming.”_

“That’s nice to hear,” Caduceus rumbled. “This seems like a lovely place to stop.”

“Really?” Jester tried to glance over Nott’s shoulder. “Why? What makes you say that, Caddy?”

“The music,” he hummed. “The music is getting louder.”

They all fell silent. They strained their ears. Even Fjord’s driving slowed down just a smidge.

And then, there it was, barely on the edge of hearing—

A soft, spirited, upbeat tune.

“Huh,” muttered Nott. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

And then Fjord frowned. He leaned forward and squinted.

“Do you...do y’all see that?” he asked. “In front of us, it...look, it’s like there’s somethin’ reflecting off the clouds.”

“I don’t see anything,” said Jester the Chair. “Nott, move your head over.”

Fjord squinted harder. “It…looks like lights, maybe? Hang...hang on, I think it’s past those trees.”

“Is it the angel?” Beau tapped on Yasha’s seat. “Do you feel them? Are we there now?”

Yasha pressed her face to the windshield. She deliberated.

“Er...I am not sure. We might be. It is possible?”

“Alright, well, let’s find out!” Fjord drove his foot against the pedal and followed the road toward the source of the sights and sounds. Soon, the thick forests around them gave way and after one last expectant minute, they steered around the bend and came across a street that was absolutely jam-packed with cars.

Fjord narrowly avoided an impromptu scratched-car-lawsuit. His need for speed rapidly subsided.

“What the hell?” he frowned as they slowed to crawl. “Why are there so many people here?”

“Maybe there’s a party,” Jester suggested. “Where exactly are we, now?”

Caleb peered out the window. 

“East Lake Park and Community Field,” he reported. “There is a sign—ah, we passed it.”

“There sure are a lotta parks around here, huh?” Beau tried to cross her arms. “Isn’t there anything better to do in this stupid place?”

“Well,” Caduceus leaned his chin atop the backs of their seats and almost scared the living daylights out of Beau, “those tents and those games sure seem like a lot of fun.”

The others followed his gaze past the side windows as Beauregard tried to recover. They saw, to varying degrees of success, that they were now driving next to a grassy field that housed what looked like an elaborate summer carnival.

Stalls and booths, strings of lights, brilliant streamers and banners of warm colors all dominated the scene before them. Just visible past the parked cars were dozens of clusters of gathered people, all wandering about the festival space, some in the throes of carnival games, others laughing, cheering, dancing to music or balancing gloriously tall plates of greasy good. 

And behind it all, looming over the bustle and excitement, was the canopy of an enormous, dark blue tent. Silver ribbons adorned its edges and a bright gold flag at its peak waved in the wind. There seemed to be no light or activity from the inside—at least, not yet, as far as they could tell.

“Fjord, stop...stop your vehicle somewhere, please.” Yasha gestured quickly at the windows. “We are...I think...maybe we are here.”

“ _Here_?” He raised an eyebrow, but began to do as he was told. “You think that there’s an angel _here_?”

“Oh, _fuck_ yes!” Nott pumped up fist. “A _fun_ angel, that’s what I’m talking about!”

“ _Not_ that you’re not fun,” Jester added quickly. “But...oh man, oh man, I’m _super_ excited.”

“I did not know there was a carnival here,” Caleb muttered. “I wonder if this is a seasonal thing?”

“Yeah, I think it only just rolled into town,” Beau said. “And _literally_ rolled, I mean.” She nodded her head to the edge of the park, where was gathered a veritable smorgasbord strange vehicles. They looked more-or-less like vans, or small campers, but each one was painted with bright and flashy colors, coated with streamers and glittering LED lights.

On the side of the largest one was written:

 **_The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities  
_ ** _Established._

“ _Was_? What do they mean by ‘established?’” Caleb said, as Fjord battled a sedan for an open parking spot. “Of course it is _established_ , otherwise it would not be here.”

“Maybe they have a sense of humor,” Beau said. “That’s probably a good thing for a circus to have.”

“Do you think there are games? And prizes? And cotton candy?” Jester was practically vibrating from excitement. “Oh my _god_ , I can’t wait to go!”

“Maybe they’ll have stuffed animals,” Nott grinned. “And booze. And shiny medals.”

“Remember, we are on a mission, though,” Caleb sighed. “We are here to…” He threw Yasha a careful glance. “...to find an angel, I suppose. Er...how _are_ we going to do that?”

“Look for togas,” Nott suggested.

Fjord nodded. “Yeah, and what is—hang on, sorry, Cad, can you scoot over? I can’t see the mirror.”

“What? Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Fjord carefully maneuvered their car beside the curb. “Anyway, Yasha, how are you gonna be able to tell who the angel is? Is it a visual thing? Should we be on the lookout for somethin’ in particular?”

“Wings and halos,” Nott continued.

Yasha scratched the back of her neck. “Ah...unfortunately, you may not be able to help. What is guiding me now is a…a feeling. I have, like...it is sort of like the auras that you all emit. But this is a different energy, it is...all-encompassing. It will be very hard to locate the angel down from a distance, but if I can get close enough, I should be able to see them clearly.”

Fjord shut the engine off. He leaned back.

“So…I guess that means a walkabout, then? Lookin’ for an angel that really likes the circus?”

“And also enjoying the circus?” Jester said hopefully.

“And getting real _fucked_ up on carnival wine?”

Yasha sighed. She turned and looked at Nott.

“I...do not object to you all having fun, especially since you all have come so far with me,” she said. “But please know, that _…_ that _for_ me, this is a mission of the utmost importance. And when I find the angel, I cannot let them think that I have...fallen. Into bad ways,” she added hastily. “Can I ask you all to be on your best behavior? Can you...maybe leave a good impression?”

There was a chorus of nods.

“Of course,” Beau said. “Whatever you need. We got you.”

Yasha closed her eyes. She took a deep breath.

“...okay then,” she said. “Let us do this thing.”

\--------------------------------

“Oh my gosh, _look_ at what I won!” 

“Wow, Jes, that’s amazin’. What, uh...what is it?”

Jester spun the fuzzy noodle around and revealed a plush snout and beady little eyes. 

“What? Can’t you tell?” She waved it in Fjord’s face. “It’s a weasel, silly! A cute little weasel.”

She held the stuffed animal up to the blinking carnival lights. “I shall name him Sprinkle,” she declared, “and he will live with me always.”

A lesser individual might have raised an eyebrow, but Fjord just nodded along and smiled. “Sure, of course. He’s real cute.”

Jester beamed and balanced the newly-christened Sprinkle on her shoulder. “We should find the others and show them,” she said. “I bet Beau would just _love_ this.”

“Oh, definitely, but, uh...” he glanced around and scratched his neck. “Where...where d’you think they went, huh?”

Fjord and Jester were currently standing in an open area of the fair, a large semicircle of trod-upon grass surrounded on one side by the central tent, enclosed by weaving aisles of booths. Stalls of food vendors shouted out their goods and the smells of roast meat, sweet candy, fried dough, wafted through the air on a light breeze. Other stalls advertised painted artwork, others sold small novelty crafts, a couple more dealt in clothing and straw hats. The rest, and the noisiest counters of all, belonged to the proud proprietors of carnival games, things like throw-the-dart and toss-the-ring and catch-a-fish, all lined with rows of stuffed animals or other glorious little prizes.

So far, Fjord had nothing. Jester’s purse was filled with lollipops.

“How about we walk around?” she suggested. “Maybe Yasha already found her friend! Or her coworker, or whatever she said.”

“You think?”

Jester shrugged. Sprinkle, on her shoulder, bobbed up and down. “I mean, I _hope_ so. She just seems so lost, you know? If anything, maybe being at a carnival will do her good. It’ll do us _all_ good, don’t you think?”

Fjord chuckled and smoothly stuck out his elbow.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he said. “Shall we?”

She laughed and took his arm.

“Yes! Lead on!”

They spent the next few minutes roaming through more aisles, passing booths selling candied fruit, funnel cake, then a hammer-and-bell game and burger stall, all while keeping an eye out for their friends. The search rather quickly paid off when they finally heard a familiar sound.

“ _Ha_! Take that, you stupid target!”

“ _Bitte_ , _spatz_ , take it easy. You have already obliterated the target.”

“That was...a hell of a shot, little—miss. Wouldn’t wanna get on your bad side.”

Fjord and Jester arrived just as Nott shoved a wooden bow back to a frazzled-looking staff member.

She stuck her hand out. “Prize,” she declared. “Pay up, fair and square.”

The worker scrambled to stow the bow away, possibly for the sake of not keeping Nott waiting, but more probably to get it securely away from her. In the distance, about sixty feet out, a heavily-punctured sack was bleeding sand into the grass. Another frantic employee was trying to stem the flow.

“Here you are, miss,” the worker straightened back up. “Two swords, just for you. Please, uh...please don’t swing them here.”

“Ha-ha!” Nott cackled, immediately waving the blades around. “I’m a champion!” Then she turned and added, “Here, Caleb. You can have one too. You didn’t do _that_ bad of a job.”

“He missed literally _every_ target,” Beau rolled her eyes. “Here, give that thing to me.”

“Hey!” Jester ran up to the three of them. “Hey, guys, look at what _I_ won!”

As the trio gushed over Jester’s weasel, Fjord wandered over to the side, where Caduceus and Yasha were staring out into the distance. Caduceus looked as placid as ever, Yasha did not seem so relaxed.

“Still nothing?” he asked her sympathetically. “No sign of your angel-friend?”

“No,” she sighed, and leaned against the booth. “I…honestly, I probably should have expected it. Now that we are within the radius, trying to pin them down is like…like…it is like trying to find a single spark in a fire.”

Fjord grunted. “That bad, huh?”

She nodded miserably. “It would be easier if we could just round up all the people here, and ask them one by one, or something.”

“Like in a line?”

“Exactly. I could say, ‘Hello, are you an angel?’ And if they said yes, that would be nice.”

“Yeah, uh...yeah.” Fjord coughed. “Seems right.”

Then he tried an encouraging smile.

“Well, don’t give up,” he said. “I’m sure that we just need to try—”

He was cut off abruptly by the sound of a horn blaring above the crowd. All of the carnival-goers suddenly turned around, but before anyone could ask what was going on, an amazing sight emerged from the central tent.

It was a parade. Not a very big one, but what it lacked in quantity was certainly made up for by sheer disruptive enthusiasm.

This procession of people, all ridiculously-dressed, marched into the center of this grassy square. Their leader was a lanky, slender man, with ashy-brown hair that poured past his shoulders and a long coat-and-tails that skipped around his step. Right behind him were two rather short women in shining bodysuits, emerald and amethyst that glittered against their skin. They were throwing something out into the audience, initially too far away to see, but as they got closer, Fjord realized that one was holding flyers, her twin carrying flowers.

Then a bald man came into view, wearing a neck-frilled coat of bright red, his face so coated in vibrant orange paint that he almost looked like the setting sun. He held a violin in his grasp, and was spinning a lively song through the air, a brilliant, upbeat, jovial tune. There was a tall, very muscular young man behind him, with a well-groomed handlebar mustache above his lip and massive drum slung over his shoulder, was thumping it steadily along with the music’s beat.

As this medley of figures came past, the people standing around Fjord started to cheer. They whistled when flowers rained down on them, and a few grabbed posters to wave around. A few children laughed with delight, crowd whooped and clapped in excitement, and then, suddenly, there came a loud _whoosh_ and a flare of bright, shining light as a column of flame shot up into the air and faded against the setting sun.

It had come from the very last member of the troupe, a dark-skinned woman with short hair pulled behind her head. She swiftly took another swig of some fluid, then lit a match and puffed up her cheeks and another gout of flame split the dark sky. Gasps and applause began to follow, and as the procession began to turn, a number of carnival-goers beamed, ran up to join the back of the parade. 

The leader of the group, seeing this, laughed and removed his top hat, waved it around in a wide, glittering arc.

“Come one, come all, to our grand opening night! Come for a once-in-a-lifetime experience, an evening of daring feats and adventure! Join us, please, everyone, in the main tent, starting in only ten minutes! The Fletching and Moondrop welcomes you with great, wide, open arms!”

He bowed deeply and grinned as more people ran up to them, then gestured for the parade to move on. They quickly took up the march again and soon, everyone had curved around the tent to astound and bewitch the other unseen guests.

The rest of the group walked up to Fjord and Yasha. Caduceus stopped leaning against his pole.

“Wow,” he said. “That sounded exciting.”

Beau reached down into the grass and picked up one of the discarded posters.

“The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities,” she read. “Come one, come all, for a night to remember. See terrifying beasts and women of fire, listen to our tale of danger and song. Enter our tent for a once in a lifetime experience. Or, for those looking for a bit of fun, stop by after the show for juggling, fortunes told, and music for all ages.”

Then she paused and scanned the last sentence. “No weapons, no admittance to the elderly or infirm.”

“Infirm?” Nott raised an eyebrow. “Why would they write that?”

“I think it’s part of the...the drama,” Fjord said. “You know, like they’re implyin’ that it’s exciting in there, or something.”

“So excited that you could _die_?” Caleb frowned. “ _Ja_ , no thank you, then. I will pass.”

“This could be a good idea, though,” Jester said quickly. “You know, with all the people inside, we might have a better chance of finding the angel.”

“That is...true,” Yasha scratched her chin. “Yes, it would give me a chance to scan the audience. That might actually work.”

Fjord shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“I’ve never been to a carnival before,” Caduceus added. “I _would_ like to see this.”

Jester’s eyes gleamed.

“Well, then? What are we waiting for?!”

\--------------------------------

They made their way towards the wide tent, ushered along by the rest of the crowd. Upon entry, they were met by the faint tune of ambient music, sourceless amid the bodies and dim light. Only a few strands of hanging lights draped the perimeter of the tent, and as they followed the flow of the moving crowd, they moved past a low wooden railing marking off the audience benches. The other side, a simple circular space, was the grassy equivalent of a main stage. As the gang finally slipped through the crowd, finding an empty row of seats near the front, they could see that in the center of this area was a central pillar, a heavy column of wood. It almost looked like an entire tree had been smoothed down around its sides, positioned here to carry the canopy of the tent. Looking beyond that, across the way, was a break in the rows of bleachers and another tent flap, smaller, probably the performer’s entrance. More audience members sat on the benches flanking it, crammed together to all see the show.

It was a little cramped, but nobody seemed to mind.

“I didn’t realize how popular this carnival was,” Fjord said, as the gang settled down on the bleachers. “You think we should’ve brought popcorn, or something?”

Nott reached into her pockets. She produced four granola bars.

“Here. But we’ll have to share.”

The snacks were distributed out among the group.

“Wait,” said Jester, pulling out her purse. “I have a bunch of lollipops too.”

These were also summarily handed out. Caleb watched her zip her bag shut.

“ _Bitte_ , keep an eye on that, okay? I do not want you to get stolen from.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

Beauregard nudged Yasha in the arm.

“Hey, do you see your angel?” she asked. “Any pings of...of celestial power, or anything?”

A pair of mismatched eyes scanned the dark interior. 

Yasha sighed. “No, nothing yet.”

“Darn.”

“Maybe they’re a performer,” Jester volunteered. “Maybe you’ll see them when the show starts.”

“Er…I doubt it,” Yasha muttered. “I do not think…no, that would be strange. And very not allowed.”

“Maybe they’ve gone rouge or something,” Fjord shrugged. “A free agent, who decided to join the circus.”

Yasha closed her eyes. “I do not want to think about rogue angels,” she grunted. “That is not something I want to deal with.”

Fjord frowned. “Wait, what? Why’s—”

Jester poked him in the side. She mouthed: _demon_.

“Oh. Right.”

“Here,” said Nott, handing him a loose almond. “Let’s just hope we don’t run into anything weird.”

Yasha continued to study the audience. Her gaze was unbelievably intent and Beau, after a moment of deliberation, decided to harass Caleb instead.

Finally, after a few moments longer of waiting, the ambient music began to fade and with it, the noise of the audience.

Then they fell silent.

And through the hush, came the familiar music of a fiddle.

From the top of the tent, stretching down like a slow drop of water, the violinist from the procession appeared, dangling by his foot from a silver sash. Now he was dressed in a deep, vivid blue, and began to drift down from the canopy, carefully, gently, spinning a melody as he descended. He unraveled himself closer and closer towards the ground, eyes closed, fingers focused on the melody, and then, finally, as he was about to hit the floor, in one smooth movement he released the sash and landed on his feet, still playing his tune.

Never once did it waver. And out from the shadows behind him, the leader of the troupe emerged, that same slender man in the glittering top hat. It shone as he removed it, then took a grand bow.

“Esteemed visitors of this good town, I am Carnival Master Gustav Fletching,” he announced. “Please, allow me now to thank you for joining us humble performers at the Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities.”

There was a sweeping wave of applause.

Gustav beamed. He re-donned his hat.

“Thank you, thank you for your hospitality!” He straightened up and spun in a circle. Some children in the audience giggled as he winked. “Now! Please, grant us your imaginations this eve but a trifle bit of time! Allow us to reveal a realm of laughter, mystery, danger—beauty! I see you’ve already met Desmond.” He gestured to the man still playing in all blue. “He’ll be part of our story tonight, so keep a wily eye for the shifting fool. But first,” he said, backing away from the center and the dimming lights as three ribbons of green silk unraveled from the canopy—

“First, dear guests, I shall tell you the tale of two sisters of the Fey…”

\--------------------------------

Stars glittered in the sky above as the audience trickled out of the tent. Their warm chatter drifted up into the night, and their words still hummed with awe and joy.

“Oh man, oh man, you guys, that was _so_ cool!” 

“That small child was very good at singing. I wonder where she was trained?”

“I really liked the bard’s costume.”

“Hey, and those snake-ladies were really somethin’ too. I’ve never seen people bend like that, bef— _no_ , Nott, _not_ like that.”

“My favorite part was the _fire_ ,” Beau grinned. “And the way that woman danced with those metal fans? That shit was seriously _badass_.”

“Don’t forget about the burly guy at the end,” Fjord added, pointedly ignoring Nott’s continued snickers. “Man, he looked like he could’ve ripped a brick in half with his teeth. I really thought he was gonna break those chains or something, damn.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that part was an _act_ ,” Beau waved a dismissive hand. “Of course he wouldn’t have, otherwise they’d have to buy a bunch more. Anyways, he had nothin’ on Yasha. Right, Yash?” She paused. “Er…Yash?”

They all turned back around and saw the angel standing below the tent. She was staring dejectedly at the ground.

They made their way back. Jester got there first.

“Yasha?” she asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Did you not like the show?” Caduceus asked.

Yasha sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, no, it is…it is not that. It was a very good show. Very interesting. Unique.”

“But,” said Beau, nodding along slowly, “you never saw the other angel.”

“No,” she groaned. “No, I did not. But I can still feel them, they are still here. So why are they not trying to find me? I am leaking my damn essence all over this carnival.”

“Your _what_?” Fjord asked.

“She’s letting her...her energy loose, or whatever,” said Beau. “Come on, keep up.”

“She gets it from the Astral Sea,” Jester supplied. “At least, I think.”

“The _what_?” Fjord repeated.

Nott tugged on the bottom of Yasha’s shirt. Yasha looked down.

“If you say you still feel it, then that means this isn’t over yet.” Nott gestured to the crowd. “There’s still plenty of people here. Maybe the angel’s also trying to find you. Maybe they got lost.”

“Maybe it’s a _test_ ,” Jester added. “Maybe you have to _prove_ yourself.”

Yasha considered this. She scratched her chin. “They… _do_ feel powerful,” she admitted. “They…huh. Perhaps…perhaps _that_ is what is going on.” Her face visibly brightened. “Yes. Yes! Maybe this whole thing has just been a training exercise.”

“Is that a thing?” Beau asked. “Will you get graded?”

Yasha instantly paled.

“…shoot. I hope not. I have spoken to _way_ too many humans.”

“Chin up,” Fjord nudged her arm. “You can just say we kidnapped you, or something.”

Her grimace worsened. “I am a warrior. That makes it even worse.”

“Oh. Uh…sorry.”

A beat of profoundly awkward silence followed. Then there was a low, rumbling sigh, and slowly, Caduceus raised an arm.

“Hey,” he said, and pointed to a booth a ways away. Hanging all along its wooden frame were wreaths upon wreaths of sweet summer blooms, shining beneath the soft evening torchlight.

“I’m gonna go look at that,” he said. “Anyone else want to join me?”

He headed off in its direction before they could actually answer. And one split-second choice later, Jester gave Yasha a pat on the arm and Fjord decided his brain needed to recover. Nott grinned at Caleb—and nodded to Beau and Yasha—before vanishing after the others.

This left the original unlikely trio standing alone by the entrance to the tent.

After a moment, Caleb turned to Yasha.

“I am sure it will be alright, _Engel_. You are here, and we are close, _ja_? Let us just walk around some more. I am sure we will find them eventually.”

“I hope so,” she sighed. “And again, I am sorry for dragging you out so far.”

In the distance, Jester put a wreath of flowers in Nott’s hair. She beamed so wide that all her teeth gleamed.

Beau shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t think you need to apologize. Everyone really needed this break.”

“Agreed.” Then Caleb nodded to Yasha. “Come, we can start at the main aisle one last time. Perhaps then—”

He was cut off by a loud voice spinning through the air.

“Fortunes, fortunes, come and learn your fortune! Free of charge on opening night! Free of charge, the future could be right in your hands! Consult the stars, consult the cards, see what fate has planned for you!”

The group turned around.

After the show, the crowd had thinned out a bit as families with younger children headed home. But there was still a decent gathering, many of whom were now clustered together in a circle by the side of the tent. It was hard to see from this angle, but just through the legs of the crowd, Beau could make out the edges of a mat, purple and trimmed with gold and silver.

She groaned.

“Aw, I _hate_ fortune tellers. I’d rather let Cad cover my head in flowers.”

“Really?” Caleb raised an eyebrow. “It may be a good idea, though. There are many people there.”

“ _More_ people,” Yasha sighed, but did not protest as he led them to the crowd. They quickly pushed past the outer rim of onlookers, a feat made easy by Yasha’s sheer size.

They came to a halt and watched, over some disgruntled shoulders, as the figure on the ground produced a deck of cards.

And this individual, without a doubt, was one of the most bizarre-looking people that any of them had ever seen.

For one thing, his entire body was an amalgam of ostentatious, vibrant, technicolor clutter, a visual cacophony just screaming for attention. His clothing looked like it’d been pulled out of an acid trip, and glitter was streaked messily through his wavy hair. Bright makeup coated his face, and rings and bangles and necklaces and jewels—all gleaming with the gilt of glass—dripped lavishly from his form. His skin, or as much was visible beneath the fabric labyrinth, was absolutely covered in wild tattoos, a peacock here and a moon there and curling flowers and the head of a snake and a series of shining, scarlet eyes that shone against his smooth, tan skin. He practically jingled with energy as he moved, and proffered his shiny deck to the woman across from him.

The audience watched her pull out a card. Beau and Caleb seemed apathetic at best.

Yasha was absolutely frozen.

The woman on the carpet flipped the card around and the fortuneteller immediately beamed.

“Ah, the Silver Dragon!” he announced. “Oh, how wonderful, oh, yes! That is fantastic for you, my dear. This is one of the greatest auguries to be drawn. It means you are good. It means you are pure. You are of virtue! You are a worthwhile and wonderful human being. Well, of course, that much was obvious—”

Back in the crowd, Beau made a gagging motion. Caleb raised an eyebrow.

“What is the matter?” he asked. “It is not _so_ bad, h—s…they are just loud.”

“Yeah, and saying _fuck all_ ,” Beau rolled her eyes. “Card-reading is nothing but smoke and mirrors.”

“ _Ja_ , but what did you expect?”

The woman who’d drawn the card beamed. She took the fortuneteller by the hand and nodded along as he continued his spiel.

“—and I assure you,” he finished, giving her a wink, “your surgery will go off without a hitch.”

“Oh, thank you _so much_ ,” she breathed. “It means the world to me to hear that.”

“Of course!” he laughed. “After all, as they say in the old country: _‘good lord, someone get this woman a mint_.’”

The crowd burst into applause. A few of the onlookers even cheered.

Beau frowned. She looked at Caleb.

“What language was _that_?”

He blinked and scratched his head.

“Er...actually, I do not know. Yasha, did you understand any—”

They turned, and saw that Yasha was not listening. Her eyes had gone hard, and dark, and full of rage.

And now she was marching into the center of the ring.

\--------------------------------

Jester set the wreath of daisies on Cad’s hair, then backed up and beamed.

“Oh, that was a good choice, Caddy! It’s _so_ pretty, you should do this more.”

“Aw, thanks,” he straightened up and brushed a petal. “I’ll definitely consider that, Jester.”

She giggled, then spun around on Fjord, excitedly waving a fistful of violets. Nott was standing next to them, wearing a little crown of bluets, holding her swords and looking downright pleased.

Caduceus chuckled, opened his mouth to compliment her, but then paused as a sudden, strange sound brushed his hearing.

It was like a rumble, searing through the ground.

\--------------------------------

Yasha didn’t hesitate to shove people out of her way, slamming them aside as she strode right up to the carpet.

“You!” she yelled, pointing at the fortuneteller. Beau and Caleb hadn’t _really_ heard her shout before, and both of them instantly, subconsciously, leaned back. 

“You! How _dare_ you show your face here!”

The figure seated on the ground looked up. To everyone’s surprise—and Beau and Caleb’s—he beamed.

“Why, hello, dear! It’s a pleasure to see you too! My god, I didn’t know you were in town!”

Yasha blinked. Her forehead wrinkled. It looked like she wanted to protest, but now the blur was on his feet, throwing an arm around her shoulders and swinging himself around to face right at the crowd.

“How are you, dear, my god, how _are_ you? How long has it been since last time?”

“W—since the _war_ , what are you _talking_ about?”

“Since the war!” The figure laughed. “Oh, you are a riot. Ladies, gentlemen, those of us not so limited, please excuse me, give me a moment to catch up with an old friend.” 

The crowd grumbled slightly, but the fortuneteller waved a hand. “I promise, just a couple minutes. And then we will unravel the secrets of fate, eh?”

As Yasha, still bewildered, tried to shake him off, Beau finally pushed her way through and got a real good look at the stranger’s face.

It was amazing. His energy and his smile suggested that he could have carried on like this all day. But Beau was more suspicious than most, and she could see something buried in his eyes, something rattled and lost, that betrayed a note of absolute terror.

He gave the crowd one last cheerful wave and slowly, though not that unhappily, they dispersed.

The second they were gone, Yasha whirled around and grabbed the fortuneteller by his collar. She yanked him up into the air at eye level.

He was tall, but Yasha was much, much taller. His feet dangled above the ground.

“What are you _doing_ on Earth?” she demanded. “How did you get past the patrol? Why are you _her_ e?”

The individual gave her a very weak smile.

“You, ah…are you sure you don’t have the wrong person?”

\--------------------------------

Caduceus found the source of the noise after only a moment.

Past a few of the shorter booths lining the edge of the grassy field, a group of figures had just pulled into the parking lot. Their motorcycle headlights dimmed almost in unison, and two of the five dark riders dismounted.

Jester, Fjord, and Nott noticed this. They walked over to Caduceus to get a better look. Jester had her stuffed weasel in her hands and all four of them were covered in flowers.

“Whoa,” said Nott, squinting through the night. “Is that a biker gang, or something?”

“But they aren’t wearing leather jackets,” Jester frowned. “Aren’t they all supposed to do that?”

“They aren’t even wearing _helmets_ ,” Caduceus sighed. “That’s just bad practice.”

They watched the other three riders dismount. One of them approached a group by the pretzel stand.

“Maybe they’re badasses,” Fjord tried. “Maybe they just never fall.”

Nott snorted. “Yeah, maybe up until _now_. But they only have to be unlucky once.”

“Hey, that’s a little mean,” Jester said. “I’m sure they’re fine people—”

But she was cut off as everyone else gasped. Fjord’s eyes went wide, Nott felt her jaw drop, and Caduceus visibility took a step back.

One of the riders had just pulled out a knife.

\--------------------------------

Yasha lifted the fortuneteller up higher. 

“Do not pretend to be stupid with me, you have left your foul presence all _over_ this carnival. How _dare_ you show yourself on this earth, masquerading as something that you are _not_.”

He raised his hands defensively in the air.

“Look, giant lady, I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you _sure_ you don’t have it wrong? There’s a lot of people out there that look like me.”

“ _Nobody_ looks like you,” Beau said. “You’re like a walking clown disco party.”

He turned towards her and arched an eyebrow. “Why, thank you. I take it that you’re with this one?” He gestured vaguely to his assailant. “You think you could convince her to let me go?”

“Do _not_ speak to my friend like that! You will not corrupt her, and you _will_ tell me how you got here!”

The fortuneteller opened his mouth to respond, but Yasha chose that moment to give him a good shake. Beau watched his eyeballs rattle around his skull, and couldn’t help but feel a very muted pang of sympathy.

\--------------------------------

Fjord, almost as if on instinct, took a step forward and put an arm in front of the rest. “Holy shit,” he breathed, “holy _shit_ , y’all—”

Across the square, voices began to flood:

“Fuck, what are—”

“Oh my god, look—”

“ _Hey_! You can’t do th—”

“Alright, everyone. Listen up.”

That last comment had come from the tallest biker, who had just walked calmly into the field.

“Let’s not panic, now, let’s not be rash. All of you, quietly, just get down on your knees, and I’ll promise you that no one will get hurt.”

He grinned. An awful, wicked grin.

“ _Much_.”

\--------------------------------

“ _Bitte_ , please,” Caleb stepped forward. “Hang on, _Engel_ , please, just relax. Do not kill this poor m—w…individual before we even know what is going on.”

“Thank you,” said the fortuneteller, between short gasps. “It’s Mollymauk, by the way. ‘He’ works fine, and it’s a pleasure.”

“Charmed,” said Caleb, sounding similarly strained.

“Molly for short.”

“ _Ja_ , okay, I am C—"

“ _No_!” Yasha snapped. She shook Molly for good measure. “No, do _not_ tell him your name.”

“What?” Beau crossed her arms. “Why?”

“It’s only good manners,” Molly tried again. “And, speaking of, could you please put me down?”

\--------------------------------

There’s always someone who’d stand up for a crowd. A strong-looking young man—the drummer from the parade—stepped forward and slowly approached the riders.

“Now, hang on,” he said carefully. “Let’s not do anything we’d regret.”

The tallest biker smirked, then shrugged and turned around. He jerked his head towards the drummer without another word.

One of his lackeys, a woman, stepped forward.

“Sorry, hon,” she said, tugging on her gloves. “But we’ve gotta make an example of _someone_.”

\--------------------------------

“Oh, I will put you _down_ ,” Yasha hissed. “That is only what you _deserve_.”

Molly kicked around in the air.

“I didn’t like that emphasis,” he muttered. “Look—”

\--------------------------------

The drummer raised his hands. “Now, I don’t want trouble—”

The woman pulled her glove off.

“That’s a shame, kid. I do.”

\--------------------------------

“—please, let’s not do this, alright? Let’s just talk, I’m sure we can be friends—”

\--------------------------------

And it was the strangest thing, everyone recalled later. Maybe it’d just been a trick of the light, but for a second, it had looked like her fingers had glowed.

She snapped.

\--------------------------------

“ _Friends_?” Yasha yelled. “We cannot be _friends_ , you are a—”

And then, the world exploded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hohoho, i can finally stop claiming that things are about to kick off, because I think I can safely say that they 100% have now. I am _very_ excited about this story, and I cannot wait for y'all to see what's coming.
> 
> As always, please consider leaving comments and kudos!! I write this story because I love it, but I'm also writing to share with you guys! Feedback is always very appreciated, and helps motivate me to write more. If you need something to tie you over between updates, don't forget that you can always find me as [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on tumblr. My inbox is always open, and I have a ton of ficlets and drabbles over there.
> 
> Don't forget to love each other, and I'll see you guys next update ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) <3


	9. Lit by Flame and the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: a fight for your life, meeting the antagonists, hell and high fire, the return of the text-format, the weirdest conversation I've ever written

The blast rocked Caleb and Beau off their feet, launching them completely onto the ground and leaving them lying there, shocked and dazed, desperately trying to regain their senses. All around them, through the roaring aftershock, they could hear a distant wave of screaming and feel the earth vibrating—a stampede.

Above them, Yasha whirled around. Molly swung helplessly in her grasp.

“What is—what did you _do_?!” she demanded. “Is this a distraction? Is this some trick?!”

“Trick?!” he yelled. “There’s no—what _trick_? What the _fuck_ is—”

She tossed him onto the grass and ran to Beau and Caleb.

“Are you two alright?” She steadied them as they stood. “Are you hurt? Injured?”

Caleb shook his head. Beau brushed her shirt off and added, “No, no, but...Yasha, _what_ just happened?”

“I…I do not know. I thought…but now I…I am not…”

They followed her gaze to the eastern end of the park, somber as the night drew its curtain across the sky. Just visible, above the tent-tops, through the darkness, was a massive, thick, ashen plume of smoke. Cinders and glimmers of soot blew through the air.

And then, Beau remembered.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she whispered. “I…oh my _god—_ ” She grabbed Caleb and Yasha by the arms. “The—the _others_ , our _friends_ were over there!”

Their eyes instantly widened. Caleb went pale and Yasha quickly nodded, opened her mouth as if to respond, but before she could, there came a sudden clattering sound.

All three of them snapped towards the noise.

In the seconds since being released, Molly had scrambled up to his feet and darted over to the side of the main tent. Now he was standing in a pile of opened crates, jewelry and props all strewn about the floor. And as he turned, the rest of them saw, that clutched between his determined hands were two prop scimitars, shimmering, fake glass.

He strapped the blades to the sides of his belt in one swift, practiced move.

Yasha was the first to recover. “What…what are you _doing_?” she frowned.

“Do not tell me you plan to fight an _explosion_ like that,” Caleb added, arching his brow.

Molly sighed. He tapped the handles.

“Look, it’s been great talking to you all,” he said, “really, it’s been…yeah, great. But if you don’t mind, _my_ friends are there too. And it doesn't ever hurt to be prepared. Do you have any _more_ useless questions?”

Beau stared his swords, then glanced back over her shoulder to the smoke, a fading, shadowed pillar in the night.

She crossed her arms.

“Yeah, I got one. You want help?”

\--------------------------------

Fjord pushed Nott around the side of the booth then frantically tried to catch his own breath. Next to him, Jester was visibly shaking and Caduceus had folded himself behind the counter. All around them, screaming and understandably terrified, festival-goers were running in all directions, some just trying to flee the scene, like them, taking cover behind the booths. A handful braver souls dashed towards the parking lot, but few actually managed to make it past the bikers. Every once in a while, there would be a sick _thunk_ , all too loud above the wailing crowd.

And from within the falling smoke, Caduceus could hear a voice say:

“Alright, alright, now leave those sheep alone. We need the members of that little troupe. One of them’s our bounty, we’re here to collect.”

\--------------------------------

Molly and Yasha tore through the crowd with more ease than they expected. The mob flowing past, panicked and hysteric, still had nothing on the sheer presence of Yasha—and Molly, lithe and quick as a cat, could slip through the bodies to match her pace. 

“But I just do not understand!” she yelled. “Why are you coming here?! Why bring swords?”

“Like I _said_!” Molly shouted back. “I need to make sure that my friends are okay! Aren’t _you_ also doing the same thing?!”

“I—yes, but…” Yasha sounded troubled. “Yes, but that is what _I_ do!”

“Congratulations on having a beating heart!” He wove around an older woman. “Isn’t it wonderful, being human?!”

Yasha didn’t respond. She shoved a man aside.

Behind them, the actual humans struggled to keep up. Beau had grabbed Caleb firmly by the wrist and was doing her best to keep him upright.

“But Beauregard,” he panted, “is this not unwise?! Should we not leave this to the angels?”

“First of all, context clues!” she yelled back. “I don’t actually think our new friend is an angel! Secondly,” and here she steadied Caleb before he fell, “I’m not gonna sit back while the others are in danger! We’re four down, and that’s _not_ okay! I don’t care if you’d rather hide while I search, but I’m _not_ leaving here until everyone’s accounted for!”

She yanked him past a group of frazzled teens. He was silent for a moment as the smoke grew closer.

Then he sighed. He tried to move faster.

“ _Ja_ , fine, okay, okay! I am coming!”

\--------------------------------

Fjord put his brave face on. He leaned in.

“Gang, I…I don’t think we can stay here,” he murmured. “We need to try and get out.”

Behind their humble wooden shield, the sounds of conflict rose once again. The bikers had found the first of their targets.

“But...but _how_?” Jester whispered. “What if those people see us and attack?”

“We definitely can’t take them,” Nott added. “Not in a million years.”

“I know,” Fjord sighed, “believe me, I know. But it’s dark out, so if we stick to the shadows, there’s a chance we can make it out unnoticed. Otherwise, if we just stay here, we’re exposin’ ourselves to more danger.”

Caduceus closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “They...those people are searching for something,” he mumbled. “They’re trying to find the members of the circus _._ So...so maybe, they won’t pay us much mind.”

The gang considered this. Nott scratched her head.

“We…okay, okay. I…I see your point. We can…we can run and duck behind the other booths. Stay low, and out of sight, and try to get around the main tent. We parked along the street, not in the lot, so maybe we can make it to the car.”

“Perfet,” Fjord nodded. “Alright, then—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jester whispered urgently. “Wait, but what about the others? What about Beau and Caleb? And Yasha?”

Fjord bit his lip. Past the wooden counter, soot-stained and splintered, was the outline of the riders pushing people to the ground.

“We...we have to go _now_ ,” he said softly. “They won’t be distracted forever. And…and at least Beau and Caleb have the angel. She can protect them, and so can Beau. But we…” he sighed and rubbed his face. “Gang, we only have each other. And that means we need to keep each other safe. We can search for them as we move, since they were closer to the car than we are, now. But we _can’t_ stay here. We _have_ to go. And we just have to trust that they can handle themselves.”

Jester’s gaze fell to the ground.  She squeezed her eyes shut. She nodded.

“O…okay,” she murmured. “Okay, but...we _won’t_ drive until we find them.”

Fjord nodded.

“Of course. We leave no one behind.”

\--------------------------------

Beau craned her neck over the rest of the mob. It was near-impossible to see in this darkness, but luckily, here, there were less people, as the initial wave had blown past.

Unluckily, they could no longer spot Yasha. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “They were too fast.”

Caleb nodded, breathing heavy. “Let us...let us just...just focus on the rest, then. Those two...they are divine...or whatever. They will be able to...to help themselves.”

“Okay, okay,” Beau slowed. “Yeah, that…that makes sense.”

They came to a halt just outside the square where the large explosion had originated, beside the surrounding ring of booths. Beau briefly considered reaching for her flashlight, but then decided against it. A light was good for seeing, but also being seen. And she wasn’t sure _who_ exactly was around.

“Let’s start by looking here,” she whispered. “Just in case the others tried to hide. We didn’t see ‘em as we were running, so that might be a good bet.”

Caleb took one last gulping breath, then gave Beau a nod.

“Okay,” he whispered, “but stay close. I do not want to lose you, too.”

\--------------------------------

The crowd had all but vanished when Molly and Yasha broke past the stalls and tumbled into the space beside the lot. All around them, booths had been trampled, tents dropped, streamers torn from the poles around the field, festive lanterns lay smashed in the grass. Trash littered the ground at their feet, and beneath the glow of the last remaining lights, not an insignificant number of faces were now visible, hiding—or unmoving—in the wreckage.

And standing just a small distance away was a rather strange group of people.

There were eleven of them in total. Three completely unfamiliar, wearing dark colors and looking all too calm. The tallest one stood before the other two, who flanked the kneeling sides of eight others, dressed in bright clothing, crouching, terrified—

Molly exploded forwards before Yasha could say a word. He blew through the grass, swords suddenly in hand, screaming with rage for his subjugated friends:

“HOW DARE Y— _LET THEM GO_!”

He came just short of the leader of the group, his glass blade wavering below the man’s neck. His robes billowed out around him when he stopped.

The leader didn't even flinch.

Behind him, Gustav desperately tried to catch Molly’s eye.

He mouthed: _run away_.

If Molly saw this, he did not comply.

“I’m only going to say this one more time,” he seethed. “Let them _go_ , let my family _go_.” 

The man chuckled. And casually, as if completely unfazed by the sword hovering inches from his throat, he slowly reached into the sides of his jacket and produced, somehow, from seemingly nowhere, a wicked, curved, gleaming blade of his own. But unlike Molly’s, this knife was not glass—it shone cold, grey, below the stars.

“Now, now, relax, relax,” he said. “Let’s just have a chat, eh? How about we exchange names? I know how much you demons like that.”

Molly’s eye twitched. He managed to keep his weapon steady, but narrowed his gaze all the same.

“You... _what_?”

“I’m Lorenzo,” the man continued, ignoring this confusion. “It’s a pleasure. And I hope you’ll do the courtesy of hearing me out, especially after it took so long for me to track you down.”

Molly’s grip tightened.

“I have no _idea_ what you’re talking about,” he hissed.

“Is that so?” Lorenzo nodded. “Well, it’s true that you don’t seem like the brightest of your kind. Can’t fault you there, of course. But see, you’ve become a bit of a pain for my...let’s call him my employer. He hasn’t taken kindly to you marchin’ up into his territory, makin’ deals with all sorts of people as you please. He wants you gone, to put it lightly. And he doesn’t care how I do it.” 

Lorenzo leaned in closer. He tilted his head towards the troupe.

“Get my meaning?”

Molly stared.

“…Mister, I think you’re _insane_.”

The man carried his gaze a second more.

Then his shoulders fell. He gave a soft smile.

“Well, alright, if that’s what you want.” He glanced over his shoulder, to one of the other riders. “If that’s the case, let’s start by killing the small o—”

Molly was a blur of scarlet beneath the moon, his scimitar twirling like a breeze he whirled past the leader and charged towards the others

\--------------------------------

Nott heard the sound of...of...of _something_ clanging as they continued their careful crawl through the wreck.

“It...it almost sounds like a _sword_ ,” she added, side-stepping a broken bottle. “Is that weird? Am I hearing things?”

“At this point,” Fjord paused to help Caduceus avoid the glass, “anything is possible. Did you _see_ that lady’s hand, earlier? It was...it was like she did _magic_ , or something.”

“Magic?” Jester raised an eyebrow. Her fingers trailed across a snapped streamer.

“…I never thought magic would do something like _that_.”

\--------------------------------

“You know,” said Lorenzo, as Molly positioned himself before the troupe, “I do so love it when they resist. That always makes it _so_ much fun.”

“Really?” Molly gestured vaguely with his sword. The other two bikers now flanked their leader, one with a dagger, the other weaponless. “I was just thinking that this was going to be _too_ easy.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Well, of course _you’d_ think that. But see, we aren’t your average humans. Oh, no. Dwlema, want to give him a taste?”

The weaponless biker nodded. And as she stepped forward, a voice behind Molly cried:

“Oh, shit, _shit_ , Mol—”

“What?” he glanced back, “Bo, why— _god,_ what _happened_ to y—”

Another performer—Desmond—grabbed Molly by the collar. “I saw this earlier,” he yanked him back, “Mollymauk, Molly, we need to _run_ —”

Dwelma reached for her glove again. And once again, as she removed it, the skin beneath the leather began to glow, a bright, horrible, burning glow, her smirk widened and Lorenzo began to laugh, and suddenly, suddenly, out of almost nowhere—  
An enormous shape appeared next to Molly. A blur of rage and fury and wrath, swinging an enormous sword across the night.

\--------------------------------

The distant sounds of conflict grew louder as Beau and Caleb continued their search. Neither of them could see very well in the darkness, and nearly all the carnival lights had been shattered, so currently, they were just crouching down and feeling their way through the debris.

Beau narrowly avoided tripping over a plank of wood.

“Hey,” she kicked it aside, then looked back, “hey, watch out, here. There’s a bunch of shit all over the ground.”

“Oh, really? Thanks.”

There was a pause.

“Beau?”

“ _Fjord_?”

“Beau?!”

“Jester!”

“ _Was is_ —”

“Caleb, you’re here _too_?”

“Nott? Was that you?”

“ _Nott_? Wait, where—”

“She’s behind me,” rumbled Caduceus, whose head was so close that Beau could feel his breath against her neck. “Nice to see that you’re alright.”

“Yeah, well, same goes for you guys.” She backed up purposefully and almost collided with a nearly-invisible Fjord. “Well, I guess…that solves one problem. We were lookin’ for you guys.”

“And we were looking for _you_!” Jester said, fumbling around in the darkness for her friends. She eventually managed to find and grab Beau around the waist. “We were _so_ worried, oh my god, we were _so_ worried about you guys…”

Beau laid a hand on Jester’s head. Behind them, Caleb had pulled Nott into a hug and nodded at Caduceus and Fjord.

“This is very good,” he murmured. “I am glad that all of you are safe.”

“Me too,” Fjord sighed. “Good to almost see you.”

“Man, but what _happened_ , though?” Beau tipped her head off into the distance. “We were just standin’ around, and all of a sudden there was smoke everywhere.”

“We aren’t really sure either,” Jester admitted. “We saw a bunch of bike-riders come to the festival and start threatening everyone. And then this woman, she…she was one of them, and she…did _something_?’

“She snapped her fingers,” Caduceus said. “And it caused an explosion.”

“Almost like in a movie,” Fjord added.

“It was _crazy_ ,” Nott pitched in. “It sent everything flying, and then everyone started to run.”

“They were...they were _hurting_ people, though,” Jester murmured. “And then we heard them fighting some others, but...I’m not sure who they were—”

“Wait, wait a second, hang on.”

They all turned to look at Fjord, and he gestured around.

“Aren’t we...aren’t we missing someone? The big one? Guys, where’s Yasha?”

\--------------------------------

“You know!” shouted Molly, between swings of his sword, “I have! No idea! What the _shit_ is _happening_ anymore!”

“Less talking!” Yasha shot back. “More—shut up, more fighting!”

Now the two of them were standing back to back, weapons drawn in the moonlit field.  Behind them, the rest of the Moondrop had fled, hopefully to somewhere far, _far_ away and much safer than this...this…

Well, whatever this clusterfuck was. Molly really wasn’t kidding—two minutes ago, he’d just been reading fortunes, and now apparently he was in the middle of a medieval showdown against a bunch of very rude bikers. As far as Sundays went, this was certainly one of his weirdest ones yet.

At least he and his new friend were winning.

The smallest biker was bleeding from his shoulder now, and he’d been forced to put one of his daggers away. The woman, keeping to the back, had been caught on the leg by Yasha’s sword, and a dark gash stained her flesh. Unfortunately, she still looked pretty determined, and was holding...well, Molly wasn’t sure what _this_ was either—it looked almost like two globes of light. There was a small part of his jacket where he’d been singed, and all his instincts were screaming to stay away.

And the leader, Lorenzo, standing proud and tall, didn’t look so amused, anymore. His smile was gone. His gaze was ice, his gnashed teeth cruel, but he kept glancing back, briefly, to Yasha, as if in a sort of private disbelief.

\--------------------------------

“—and I dunno, I still have no idea what he was for _sure_ , but then we ran off to confront the bikers—”

“To do _what_?” Fjord yelped. What the—Beau, _why_ would you do _that_?”

She poked him in the chest.

“Because we were worried that _you_ were there, dummy. All you guys.”

“The fortuneteller also came,” Caleb added. “He said that his friends were in danger as well. And, ah...we lost Yasha as we were moving. She seemed very determined to follow him. I believe... _ja_ , I believe she wants to kill him once they are done.”

Jester gasped.

“ _What_? Why would she do _that_?”

\--------------------------------

Next to them, another explosion erupted. The smallest biker lunged at Molly through the smoke, but Yasha swept in, parried with her weapon, allowed him to spin around once more to the leader. The tip of his scimitar met Lorenzo’s cheek, but he was forced to quickly twist away and doge a wicked blade. 

\--------------------------------

“A _what_?!”

Beau sighed. “A demon, Jes. Yasha didn’t say it, but I’m pretty sure it’s true. Though, I guess, to be fair to him, aside from ripping people off at festivals, he didn’t really seem all that demonic.”

“Yeah,” Nott said absently, “that’s just something carnival-workers do.”

“But still,” Fjord scratched his chin, “Yasha _came_ here because she sensed an angel. Then she goes all crazy when she sees this Molly person? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, I do not think it is,” Caleb sighed. “But unless this person is a truly amazing actor, he really _was_ confused by her. And then he ran off at the first sense of danger—not away from us, but _towards_ the fight.”

“It could be just for show,” Caduceus rumbled, surprising all the rest of them. “Maybe he was just pretending.”

“That is…well,” Caleb conceded, “that is also possible.”

“We don’t really know everything,” Beau agreed.

“Well, _I_ think he sounds interesting,” Jester said, lightly, despite the situation. “I’d like to meet him. And ask him for a fortune.”

Fjord rubbed his eyes. “Right, but...but for now, we should concentrate on other things. We need to focus on getting out in one piece. Let’s head back to the car, then hide until the trouble’s done. We can’t...if they really _are_ , you know, an...an angel and a demon, I’d really hate to get in the way of whatever’s gonna happen.”

“Co-signed,” Caleb said. “We need to make sure that _we_ stay out of trouble.”

Jester looked like she was about to protest, but Fjord put a hand on her shoulder.

He met her gaze.

“We’ve gotta have some faith in Yasha, right?”

She fell silent.

“I mean...I _guess_ , but I’m still worried about her.”

“Me too,” Caleb murmured, “but _she_ is an angel. She can take care of herself, I am sure.”

“I…yeah. That’s true.”

She hung her head, and Beau took that moment to look over her friends.

 Worn, and tired, and ashen, and scared.

She glanced back to the sounds of the fight.

She sighed.

“Guys, I..I think you should go to the car without me. I think…I still need to find Yasha.”

\--------------------------------

Yasha spun around slammed into the woman before she could call another spell—instead, she flew back, skidding into the dirt and lying, motionless, a second after. At that, Yasha turned once more to Lorenzo, dove past Molly to lash out with a strike, but before her blade could even connect, suddenly, a voice cried:

“Lorenzo! _Duck!_ ”

\--------------------------------

“Beauregard,” Caleb whispered, “now is not the time for courage—”

\--------------------------------

A sickly burst of purple energy erupted in the space right by Yasha’s head. And from within the cluster of fallen booths came another woman, also dressed in black, running towards them and joined by an even larger figure, hulking, massive, nearly the size of Yasha, wielding an enormous club in her hands.

Down in the grass, Dwelma sat up, and the smallest biker ran over to help her.

The second spellcaster nodded back to them both and grinned as she joined Lorenzo’s side.

“Get her out, Protto. We’ve got it from here.”

\--------------------------------

Beau pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Look, I just...I just need to make sure she’s okay. I won’t get involved, but...someone’s at _least_ gotta tell her where we are. And where we’re going. Don’t worry.” She added with a faint smile. “I’m quick and sneaky, I’ll be alright.”

Then there was a tug at the side of her sleeve.

She turned, and Nott let go.

“In that case, I’m coming too. I’m just as sneaky as you, and there’s no _way_ I’m letting you go alone.”

\--------------------------------

Two new assailants joined the fray. The woman with the club barreled towards Yasha, knocking her back from Molly’s side and sending both of them careening into the grass. Bursts of light and electric force lit up the battlefield and sent chunks of earth flying, made Molly’s hair stand on edge and forced him to duck and weave out of the way. He was dimly aware of the sounds of starting engines, a sudden flash at the edge of the parking lot, but he was too busy dodging blasts of magic to properly get a look. 

\--------------------------------

“Remember, be...be _careful_ ,” Fjord murmured. “We really don’t know what’s going on.”

Another explosion rocked the summer night.

“Don’t worry,” grinned Beau, who was starting to worry, “if it’s the two of us, we’ll be fine.”

“Still,” Caleb added. “Tread lightly.”

“And we’ll be waiting in the car,” Jester whispered, breaking away from one final hug. “We won’t leave until all _three_ of you come back.”

“See you later,” Caduceus promised.

Beau and Nott exchanged glances.

“Alright,” Nott exhaled. “Alright, alright. Let’s...do this, I guess.”

Beau gestured towards the noise.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. Follow me.”

\--------------------------------

Yasha had the club-wielder on the retreat, which was good because a single one of those swings probably would’ve turned Molly into sludge, but bad because this now left him to deal with Lorenzo and the new magician, all by himself.

His eyes scanned the grassy field, large portions of it charred and truly beyond saving. The smell of smoke now mingled with the burn of gasoline and a harsh, metallic tang on the breeze. Distantly, he wondered if the troupe was okay, if they’d managed to find somewhere safe to hide. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up, even with Yasha’s hel—

And then he screamed, as something split his shoulder.

There was a second, frozen with shock and cold, then a strangely warm sensation down his arm. He felt the grass rise to his knees, he glanced up, through blurring eyes, saw the wicked curve of a stained blade as Lorenzo prepared to deliver another strike—

And then a storm blew past him, a clang of metal, a shape throwing him back from death. As he tumbled back and fought to stay lucid, Molly realized that Yasha was now at his side, sword in hand, brushing past, diving at Lorenzo, a whirlwind of terror—

He blinked, and felt something brush against his cheek.

It was...they were feathers. Hundreds upon hundreds of feathers, all...all coming from Yasha, extending out from behind her back, massive and looming, pouring from her spine, shooting out across the stars and covering them both in a shield of black plumes—

 A few of them even gleamed, like the last coals of a dying flame.

But Molly only had a few more seconds to stare before there was the sudden, sharp smell of ozone. He just barely rolled out of the way, stumbled up, whirled to see, spotted the spellcaster and other woman barreling forth—

Something inside him screamed to be released. He reached out a hand, shut his eyes, _screeched—_

The grass around him burst into flames. Molly himself even scrambled back, before realizing that it wasn’t hot, just...warm. But the other two immediately reared back, shouting and battering at their clothes. Lorenzo spun around too, and Yasha, wings spread, sword grey and cold, slammed into his side like a baseball bat of reckoning.

The strength and the surprise caught Lorenzo off-guard; he collapsed into the dirt.

Yasha, eyes burning and mouth hard, loomed above him as she hissed: 

“Tell your patron that he is _unwelcome_. And save your soul before I _take_ it.”

Lorenzo snarled back at her, almost more animal than man. But then he glanced back at his other riders, saw their blood scattered through the grass, heard roar of the hellfire, and slowly, slowly, his posture relaxed.

He spat into the field. He narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll be back for you, both of you,” he said. “You _and_ your demon friend.”

Yasha stepped forward.

“I _dare_ you.”

Lorenzo smirked. He stood.

And at that very moment came a loud rustling sound in the distance. Everyone turned just in time to see Beau and Nott emerge from the broken booths.

And then freeze.

They stared, unmoving, amid the darkness, at the figures lit by flame and the moon.

And then, Beauregard raised a hand. For the second time in all too short a time, she pointed shakily at Yasha’s wings.

“They’re...they...why are they _bl_ —”

Motorcycle engines drowned the last word. Yasha had to tear her gaze away from Beau and towards the bikers as they fled from the lot, their headlights vanishing deep into the night.

And eventually, even the rumbling faded.

Yasha didn't meet Beau's eyes. Instead, she forced herself to move, to march directly up to Molly, through the embers, greatsword in hand.

She leveled the blade below his chin.

“Explain,” she said. “Explain _now_.”

Molly leaned back.

“I, ah...I’m not really sure that I can.”

She maintained her glare for all of five seconds. 

Then she sighed. Her shoulders sagged.

“Then can you just...can you just find someone who _does_?”

There came a faint rustling from the edge of the lot. 

It was the other performers, emerging from the van.

And a few moments later, Gustav approached.

“Good, ah...good evening,” he panted. “Do you...mind telling us…what the _hell_ is going on?”

\--------------------------------

Today | 9:32PM

 **Nott:** hey hey hey where are you guys??  
**Nott:** are you all ok?  
**Jester:**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Jester:** Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Jester:** are YOU guys ok?????  
**Nott:** yes yes we are alright  
**Nott:** those bikers are gone now too  
**Nott:** and yasha is i think interrogating the angel/not angel? And all his buddies from the circus. everyone is just really confused  
**Nott:** y’all should come back, this looks like it’s gonna be ,, weird  
**Jester:** you had me at circus!!  
**Jester:** dont worry, we’re on the way

\--------------------------------

Fjord sat down next to Beau and accepted a mug of tea. The little girl who’d handed it to him—Toya—quickly scurried off back to the others.

All of them, ragtag assholes and carnival-workers alike, were currently sitting in a circle in the grass. Earlier, Caduceus had assisted Desmond in making tea, as a bewildered-looking Ornna helped Jester distribute lollipops. Yasha and Kyrle had rounded up the last lanterns, and now a dull glow shone over their heads, casting long shadows across the trampled ground.

Gustav stood in the middle of this ring, like the moderator of the world’s most confusing debate. His hat was missing, coat was rumpled, and a bruise was welling up around his eye.

He turned to Yasha, and shook his head.

“So…you’re saying that you’re an angel,” he managed. “And you believe that...that _Mollymauk_ is a _demon_ of some kind? And because of that, he was targeted, and the rest of us got caught?”

Yasha took a sip of tea.

“That would be correct.”

Molly shot a pointed look at Gustav. It said, without needing any words: _See? They’re absolutely nuts!_

“See?!” he added, for extra emphasis. “What they’re saying is completely insane!”

“Hey!” barked Nott. “I prefer eccentric, thanks.”

Gustav pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Desmond offered a small smile.

“Let’s be honest,” he tried, diplomatically. “It’s not the _strangest_ thing we’ve ever heard.”

“Sure,” Mona raised an eyebrow, “but it’s still pretty _weird_ , yeah?”

“ _Really_ weird,” Yuli added. “And a bit more...religious than I’d prefer.”

“Religion does not have to come into this,” Yasha supplied. “It is just a fact of the universe.”

Everyone fell silent. The carnival workers to look confused, the rest of the gang to sigh, exhausted.

Then Caduceus raised a hand.

“If it’s, ah...if it’s any consolation,” he said, “I’m just finding out about this, too. This...whatever’s goin’ on.”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Fjord smacked his own head. “Shit, right. We never explained this to you.”

Beau gave a shrug. “Do we still _need_ to? I mean...let’s be honest, it’s pretty clear now, right?”

“Is it?” Molly leaned forward. “Are you _sure_ , dear? Because I still have _no_ clue what you people are saying! Demons and...and all that nonsense, it’s well and good for telling a good story, but it’s different when a bunch of strangers waltz into your life and claim it to be true!”

“He _does_ kind of have a point,” Bo added, much more calmly. “I mean, Molly _is_ pretty annoying—”

“Cheers.”

“—don’t mention it. But calling him a ‘demon’ seems pretty harsh.”

Yasha sighed. “You can call him whatever you wish to. But that will not change his fundamental nature.”

“But _what_ nature?!” Molly cried. “I’m just a _regular_ person! Well, as regular as it gets, working at a circus. Still!” he plowed on. “This whole ‘demon’ thing is just bull. I’ve never had horns, or a tail, for one. And I don’t have a desire to eat souls, so we can scratch that off the list.”

Yasha raised an eyebrow.

“Demons do not _eat_ souls.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, that makes me feel bet—”

“They _do_ collect souls, however. For power. Which is, according to that terrible man, what you have been doing in this...territory,” Yasha’s tone darkened slightly. “And I do not like this...this idea that demons have been cutting the Earth up into _territories_. I thought your side was well aware of the consequences of what would happen if we found out. Seeing as you should still remember how you lost.”

“Lost _what_?” Molly groaned. “Don’t you _dare_ say—”

“The war between Heaven and H—”

He threw his arms back. “This is ridiculous! All of this is completely _ridiculous_! Tell them, Gustav, _tell_ them they’re being crazy.”

There was a pause.

He lowered his arms.

He turned, and stared at the rest of the troupe.

“Gustav?” he prompted. “Any minute now?”

The carnival, very slowly, exchanged glances. Then Gustav sighed. He scratched his neck.

“Well, ah...well, as...as odd as it does sound, maybe...well. Maybe _some_ of what she’s saying does seem...possible, doesn’t it?”

Molly’s eyebrows rocketed past his hairline. “ _Does_ it?” he asked incredulously. “Gustav, don’t tell me that you _buy_ this crap.”

“I mean….” Desmond spoke up, “not...certainly we don’t have to believe _all_ of it, but…”

“We _watched_ the fight through the windows,” Mona said. “It was...we _saw_ what you two did.”

“What we _did_?”

“You know,” Yuli muttered. “That stuff...with the...that fire?”

A tiny voice added:

“And the wings.”

Jester immediately beamed at Toya. “You saw Yasha’s wings?” she whispered. “Oh, man, were they cool or _what_?”

Toya nodded, and did not say more, but she did give Yasha a shy smile.

Caleb sighed. He rubbed his chin.

“This is…we know that this is a lot for you to hear. Certainly, Mister Mollymauk, it was quite strange when _our,_ well, her—" he gestured vaguely to Yasha, “—dropped from the sky and into our lives. But...but do not think we mean you any harm. Despite how...potentially aggressive the last thirty minutes have been, _we_ at least did not come here with the intent to hurt you. It was...mostly accidental, actually. Yasha thought that she had sensed another angel.”

“I am not even killing you,” Yasha added quietly. “And if it helps, for now, I do not plan on trying.”

“Gee,” said Molly, “I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

He crossed his arms.

“This is...I still think it’s ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’d think I’d _know_ if I were a demon, after all.”

“Well. now,” Bosun said, supportively, “I don’t know if _that’s_ true.”

“Really?” Nott instantly looked up. “What makes you say _that_?”

Bo opened his mouth to respond, but very quickly stopped under the weight of Molly’s glare.

“It’s nothing,” the would-be-demon interjected. “Nothing that matters, anyway.”

“Well, hang on,” Gustav stepped in, “Son, it...it _might_ be...relevant.”

Molly groaned.

“Well, of _course_ it is. Of _course_ it’s fucking relevant. God, I suppose I had a good run—”

They watched him put his head in his hands. 

Fjord raised a finger. “Is, ah...is he alright?”

“And what are you all talking about?” Beau added. “What is this ‘thing’ that supposedly doesn’t matter?”

The carnival exchanged glances. Ornna opened her mouth, gave a grunt, then paused.

“It’s fine,” Molly waved a hand. “Go on, this night won’t get any worse.”

Ornna smiled weakly at the group. “Molly is, ah...he has amnesia,” she explained. “He’s been like that, ever since we found him.”

“Doesn’t remember anything about...well, about anything from two years ago,” Bo added. “But he’s…well, he clearly doesn’t like to…talk about it.”

Kylre, who had been largely silent up until this point, leaned in. He made purposeful eye contact with the group.

“Oh,” said Caleb, very awkwardly. “Oh, is that…um. Is that all?”

Molly snorted. His face re-emerged. “That’s the right attitude,” he said, “I appreciate it. But yes, I am an amnesiac. No, I won’t let that stop me. And if this whole...demon-thing—” he waved his arms, ‘—has _anything_ to do with that, then it _still_ doesn’t mean anything to me. It _especially_ doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t want to be involved with the past of whoever had this body before. Because it’s _mine_ now. Not whoever that asshole might’ve been.”

The rest of the circus nodded along as if this were something they’d heard many times before. Fjord got the distinct feeling that he should clap.

But then Yasha shook her head. She leaned in towards Molly.

“That is...admirable,” she murmured, “and I admit, your...your behavior _is_ somewhat strange, for a demon. Your sentimentality and willingness to jump into danger was odd—"

“Thank you.”

She raised a hand. “ _However,_ that does not change the fact that you _are_ a demon. And that also does not change...well, _I_ found you. That terrible man, Lorenzo, also found you. You summoned fire when your life was in danger, and your wound has already closed up.”

Molly’s eyebrow twitched, as if he’d forgotten about that small detail.

“Well, that’s...not so bad, is it?” he asked. “That just means, maybe I have some nifty powers.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm,” Yasha sighed, “is that you are leaking your presence everywhere, and if you really do not... _remember_ being a demon, and have no control over your abilities, then you are a _liability_. Not just for yourself, but for the people around you. This troupe got caught in the crossfire. Who knows what could happen next if you were to stay?”

Molly was silent.

And in the pause that followed, a chorus of voices rang out:

“Hey, hang on—”

“Now, that isn’t—”

“Miss, you shouldn’t—”

“Be _fair_ , now—”

“No.”

They stopped. They all looked up and saw that Molly had risen to his feet.

And now he was staring directly at Yasha.

“That...that may be the first valid point you’ve made this evening,” he admitted slowly. “I suppose some of that _is_ true.”

“But still,” Gustav said quickly, “that doesn’t...surely, Miss Yasha, that doesn’t warrant you... _killing_ Mollymuak—”

“ _Killing_?” Yasha blinked. “I—no, I was not going to do that.” She fidgeted slightly. “At this...this point, it is not something I would consider. Especially not...and I cannot _believe_ I am saying this, especially as you are, apparently, innocent.”

“Then what _do_ you propose?” Ornna asked. “Surely not that he just runs off on his own?”

“That’s also fair,” Molly muttered. “I don’t do well in solitude.”

“I…yes, I had a different idea,” Yasha murmured. “What if…what if, ah... he came with us? With me and...and _my_ troupe? I will...I would keep a close eye on him. And if we are in close proximity, I can continue to mask his presence, at least until he learns to do it himself. He would not be...be a prisoner. Not at all. On this, you have my word.”

They all went silent. 

They turned towards Molly.

For a moment, the Fletching and Moondrop stood still.

Then Desmond said:

“If you don’t want to go, then...then don’t. We can...we can handle whatever happens.”

“You _have_ already been with us for two years,” Mona added. “And nothing’s happened until now, right?”

“It’s not like we’re always in the same place,” Yuli agreed. “Those people would have to track us down again, and we could just…I dunno, move fast.”

Off to the side, Yasha opened her mouth to interject, but paused when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, and saw Beau shake her head. 

 _Not now_ , she mouthed. _Just…just wait_.

“—hate to admit it, but we _would_ miss you,” Ornna was saying. “And we’d need to find another sword-thrower.”

“Or fortuneteller,” Bosun grunted.

Gustav gazed at Molly. His voice was kind.

“What do _you_ think is best, son?”

Molly’s gaze drifted to the ground.

He sighed.

“Well. That’s not really what matters anymore, is it?”

Gustav nodded. He put a hand on Molly’s shoulder.

“Just don’t forget. You’ll always have a place with us.”

Kylre and Toya scooted closer. The little girl tugged on Molly’s shirt.

“I’ll miss you, lots,” she whispered.

Molly felt a smile curl across his face.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers.

“It’s okay,” he murmured back. “I’ll...come and visit.”

“Only ‘til he figures himself out, right?” Ornna asked, eyes narrowing at Yasha. “Then you’ll send him right back to us?”

She nodded. “I promise.”

Molly raised both arms into the air, stretched, and nodded to his troupe.

“Well, then,” he said, and his voice now was desperately light. “Well, then...that…I suppose that means there’s no need for dramatics. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m a quick learner, after all.”

He spun around and nodded at Yasha.

“Alright, alright, count me in. Though I still don’t _really_ understand what you’re going on about, and I still think you’re all pretty crazy.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Beau said immediately.

Molly snorted. “Well, I can see that this’ll go well. I hope I’m not rooming with _you_.”

“We, ah...we...have space in our room,” Caleb said, gesturing to himself and Fjord. “That is, er...Jester, if it is alright—”

Jester barreled across the circle and wrapped her arms around Molly’s chest.

“Yes!” she cried, “Yes, it’s alright! It— _sniff_ —it...it’s _so brave_ of you to do this,” she declared. “It’s _so_ sweet of you to abandon everything and come to stay with us. I…I don’t _care_ if you _are_ a demon, or something. And even if you are, I still think you’re very nice.”

Molly’s smile went just a bit brighter.

“Now _you_ ,” he chuckled, “ _you,_ I like.”

She giggled. “I’m Jester! Jester Lavore.”

Molly carefully untangled himself, then stood up and offered a hand. She rose alongside him, then he motioned for her to step back.

He turned towards his troupe, then to the newcomers in his life.

He presented them all with a sweeping bow, not unlike the ones Gustav gave.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he announced. “Fortuneteller, Sword-thrower, and…well, apparent demon. Pleased to make your acquaintance, I suppose.”

Gustav Fletching crossed his arms.

“That wasn’t too bad,” he nodded over the applause. “But next time, son, really stretch that arm back.”

Then Caleb also stood, and stuck out a hand for Molly to take.

“I know…I know that this has been a lot,” he said. “And I admire how well you and your troupe—” he nodded to the other performers, “—have accepted all of this. So I just want to say, for what it is worth…thank you. Welcome. And the pleasure is ours.”

\--------------------------------

Molly owned—unsurprisingly, given his profession—very few material possessions. Which was a good thing, because that evening, as the moon reached its peak, their battered old station wagon gained one last member.

Fjord turned around and appraised his sardine-can.

“So, uh…” he said, as his friends fought for comfort, “does anyone _actually_ know how to get home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a wild chapter, eh? I hope you guys enjoyed this part, and sorry for uploading it so late! It took quite a while to finally write up, and I really appreciate your patience!
> 
> I know you all must have a lot of questions, and do not worry! I can't wait to answer them! However, I will be needing a bit of a break to sort everything out, so I will be taking a **short hiatus** to work on this story, and some other WIPs. It shouldn't be longer than a month or so, during which I will still be uploading drabbles and ficlets (and maybe other things ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ).
> 
> In the meantime, don't forget that you can always find me as [@sockablock](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) on tumblr! My inbox is always open, and I always love interacting with y'all. Your comments and kudos (and sometimes screaming) always keeps me going, and thank you, thank you, thank you _so much_ one last time for comin' on this journey with me, and for making it this far <3
> 
> Love you guys, and I can't wait 'til next time!!
> 
> <33333333


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